


It Had To Be You

by Lenni51074



Series: Book/Movie Rewrites [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BFFs, Bucky likes teasing reader, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Orgasm, Friends to Lovers, If you've seen the movie you will understand, Language, Modern day AU;, Peggy Carter ships it, Reader has had enough of this shit, Slow Burn, So much talking, Steve Rogers Ships It, This is very wordy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21590638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenni51074/pseuds/Lenni51074
Summary: There’s never been a friendship quite like the one between you and Bucky Barnes. You first meet when you give him a ride to New York after you both graduate from college. Over the years, you both search for love, but fail. As you bump into each other time and again, the two of you begin to develop a close friendship, and spend your days debating whether it is possible to have great sex with a man named Cameron, sharing disastrous double dates, and demonstrating just how easy it is for a woman to fake an orgasm. Through the ups and downs of life and love in your twenties and early thirties, there is practically nothing that you and Bucky don’t do together.But eventually you are confronted with the age-old problem: Can a man and a woman ever be the best of friends without sex getting in the way?An Avengers-based retelling of the movie "When Harry Met Sally"
Relationships: Ex Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanoff, Ex reader/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Maria Hill & Reader, Natasha Romanoff/Clint Barton, Peggy Carter & Reader, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: Book/Movie Rewrites [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546471
Comments: 14
Kudos: 112





	1. Just Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet Bucky Barnes for the first time after graduating from college, and endure his company for the drive to New York.

_SHIELD University, twelve years ago…_

Dot looked at Bucky with tears in her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered softly.

Bucky tenderly wiped away her tears. “I love you, too, Dottie.”

They kissed. Again. The two of them had been ‘saying goodbye’ for the past fifteen minutes, and looked like they would continue to do so if they weren’t interrupted.

You pulled up to the kerb just as things looked like they were heading towards an act of public indecency. Trying not to gag at the sight before you, you discreetly cleared your throat. You attempted to attract their attention two more times, but your loved up college room-mate and her partner were completely oblivious to the world around them. In frustration, you leant on the car horn perhaps a little more forcefully than your normally sunny disposition allowed. You were on a schedule, after all.

Breaking away from each other with embarrassed grins, the pair turned to look at you. Dot spoke first.

“Hi, Y/N. This is Bucky Barnes. Bucky, this is Y/N Y/L/N.”  
  
Bucky – what the heck kind of a name was that, anyway? – turned to you with what was obviously meant to be a charming smile, but which looked more to you like a smirk. He was about six feet tall, broad shouldered, with shoulder-length dark hair and blue-grey eyes. He was exceptionally good looking, if you liked that sort of thing. With a nod, he said, “Nice to meet you.”

Clearly, he thought he was God’s gift to women. Well, you’d met his type before, so you weren’t likely to fall for his charms. Ignoring his greeting, you asked, “You want to drive the first shift?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Nah. You’re already in the driver’s seat. You stay there, doll.”

What a jerk.

He tossed his bags into the back of your car and proceeded once again to attempt to remove Dot’s tonsils with his tongue. You once again employed the horn, and the two of them separated, somewhat reluctantly. Dot mock-glared at you, and you smiled sweetly whilst giving an insincere apology.

“I miss you already,” Bucky called as he headed towards the passenger side. “I’ll call you from the road.”

Without waiting to make sure he was safely inside, you started driving off, giving Dot a half-hearted wave as you drove away. He hung out the window on his side of the car, calling back to Dot about how much he loved her and that he wouldn’t even look at another woman until he saw her again.

This was going to be a long drive.

**************************************

“So, I’ve got it all figured out,” you informed your new companion. “It’s an eighteen-hour drive to New York, which breaks down into six three-hour shifts each. Or alternatively, we could break it down by mileage…”

Your voice trailed off as Bucky leant over into the back seat to grab something. His ass was disturbingly close to your face, and you tried to concentrate on what you were saying.

As he turned around, stuffing his face with a juicy plum, you pointed to the glove compartment. “There’s a map in there where I’ve marked the locations where we can change shifts.”

Bucky chewed noisily, his blue-grey eyes unblinking as you spoke. When he was certain that you were finished with your instructions, he offered you a bite of his plum. You informed him somewhat primly that you didn’t eat between meals, although really you just didn’t want to eat a half-chewed piece of fruit, to which he stared at you as if you’d just said that you thought the moon landing was fake. He continued chewing.

Just when you thought the silence was going to last the entire drive, Bucky said, “Why don’t you tell me the story of your life, doll?”

A puzzled frown crossed your face. “The story of my life?”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not? We got eighteen hours to kill until we get to New York.”

Your frown deepened. “The story of my life wouldn’t even get us to the other side of town. Nothing’s happened to me yet. That’s why I’m moving to New York.”

“You’re moving to New York so something will happen to you? Like what, a mugging?”

“No,” you said, with a roll of your eyes. “Like, I’m going to journalism school so I can become a reporter.”

“So you can write about stuff that happens to other people?” Bucky asked, somewhat sarcastically, you thought.

“That’s one way to look at it, I suppose,” you said, feeling somewhat deflated. He’d punctured your dream with a few words, and now you weren’t quite sure what to think.

“Suppose nothing happens,” he continued. “You move there, nothing happens, you don’t meet anybody, you never become anything, and you don’t do anything with your life until eventually you die one of those boring New York deaths that nobody notices until two weeks later because the smell from your apartment is permeating the hallway.”

You stared at him, unsure whether he was being serious or not, until he grinned at you. Clearly, tormenting you for the next eighteen hours was what he considered entertainment. You fixed your gaze on the road ahead. “Dot mentioned that you had a dark side.”

“It’s what attracted her to me,” he said nonchalantly. “I’m guessing you don’t have a dark side, though. You look like one of those relentlessly perky people who wishes everybody a good morning and who dots their ‘i’s with little hearts.”

You pursed your lips, not wanting to admit that his assessment of you was about ninety-seven percent correct. “I have just as much of a dark side as the next person,” you retorted, somewhat unconvincingly.

“Oh, really?” Bucky looked at you speculatively. “When I get a new book, I always turn straight to the last page to see how it ends. That way, if I die before I finish the book I don’t miss out on anything.”

He chuckled at your horrified expression.

“Alright, fine,” you huffed. “So basically I’m a happy person. So sue me. I don’t see that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Of course you don’t, because you’re too busy being happy.” He was silent for about five seconds, before he asked, “Do you ever think about death?”

Who the heck was this guy, the Grim Reaper?

“Yes, I think about death.”

He snorted. “Sure you do. Just a fleeting thought that passes through your mind before the next sunshiney happy thought pops in to take its place like a bunny hopping through a carrot patch. I spend hours, days even, thinking about when I’m gonna bite the dust.”

“And you think this makes you a better person?” you asked incredulously.

Bucky shrugged again. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is that when the end of days comes, I’m gonna be completely prepared and you’re not. That’s all.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime you’re going to ruin your entire life waiting for death to take you, instead of actually living your life to the fullest,” you argued.

Honestly, if he was going to be like this for the entire trip, perhaps death wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to either of you.

**************************************

“You’re wrong,” you insisted.

Bucky had been telling you that his favourite movie was ‘ _Casablanca’_ , which also happened to be _your_ favourite, and then had proceeded to argue with you about the ending for the past fifteen minutes.

“No, I’m not. He wanted her to leave. That’s why he was so adamant that she get on the plane.”

“I don’t think she wanted to stay,” you argued.

“Of course she wants to stay,” Bucky retorted. “Wouldn’t you rather be with Humphrey Bogart than the other guy?”

“I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life in Casablanca married to a man who runs a bar and an illegal casino. I wouldn’t be happy knowing that his money was gained from other people’s misfortune.”

Bucky looked at you as if you were from another planet. “So you’re telling me that you’d rather be in a passionless marriage…”

“And be the first lady of Czechoslovakia…” you added.

He continued as if you hadn’t interrupted. “… than spend the rest of your days with a man you’ve had the best sex of your life with, just because he runs a bar and that is all he does?”

You blinked. “Yes. And so would any woman in her right mind, because women are extremely practical. Even Ingrid Bergman, which is why she gets on the plane at the end of the movie.”

Bucky pulled into the carpark of a small diner, and stared at you for a full minute before speaking. “I understand.”

He hopped out of the car and proceeded to enter the diner, not bothering to check if you were going to join him or not.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked him.

“Nothing,” he said dismissively.

“What?” you asked again.

“Forget about it.”

“Forget about what?”

“It’s not important.” His tone of voice indicated that it was actually extremely important.

“Tell me,” you insisted, grabbing his hand just before he entered the diner.

He looked at you, one eyebrow quirked and that stupid smirk on his face. “Obviously you haven’t had great sex yet.”

He walked in and sat down at a booth, trying to smother his laughter as you spluttered with indignation.

“Yes, I have!” you retorted.

“No, you haven’t.”

Marching up to the booth where he’d just sat, you said, perhaps a bit louder than you’d intended, “It just so happens that I have had plenty of good sex!”

The diner was absolutely silent as the eyes of every other person present was suddenly fixated on you. Squirming with embarrassment, you slid into the seat opposite Bucky, whose face looked like it was going to split in half from the huge grin he wore. You grabbed your menu and attempted to ignore him, and he did likewise.

Perusing the menu, he asked quietly, “With whom?”

“With whom what?” you asked somewhat primly.

“With whom did you have this earth-shatteringly fantastic sex?” he asked, those grey-blue eyes staring intently into yours.

You glared at him. “I’m not going to tell you that!”

He shrugged. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

He went back to studying the menu. So that’s how he wanted to play it, huh? Well, then fine, you could play too.

“Cameron Klein.”

Bucky stared at you. “Cameron? No, I’m sorry, you did not have great sex with _Cameron.”_

“Yes, I did.”  
  
“No, you did not. A guy named Cameron is great at doing your taxes or giving you a root canal. But Cameron is not the name you’re gonna be screamin’ as you’re about to have the most intense orgasm of your life. Cameron is boring. Safe. Vanilla. You’re never going to have mind-blowing sex with a guy named _Cameron.”_

You stared at him in open-mouthed horror as he continued.

“Give it to me, _Cameron_. You’re an animal, _Cameron_. Do it to me one more time, _Cameron_. It just doesn’t work. The name is boring, therefore it stands to reason that the sex will also be boring.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I fail to see how screaming out _Bucky_ is any better. What kind of a name is Bucky, anyway? Did your parents not like you or something?”

He laughed. “It’s a nickname. My full name is James Buchanan Barnes, but my friends just call me Bucky. Only my ma calls me James. And yes, doll, many a woman has screamed out my name in the throes of passion. Rather enthusiastically, I might add.”

Thankfully at that moment the waitress chose to come over and take your order, otherwise you might have strangled him with the shoulder strap of your handbag. Bucky ordered the special of the day, and the waitress giggled at his flirtatious wink. She turned to you expectantly.

“Yes, I’d like the chef’s salad with the dressing on the side please, and the apple pie a la mode, but I’d like the pie heated and I don’t want the ice cream on top, I’d like it on the side. And I’d like strawberry ice cream instead of vanilla if you have it. If not then no ice cream, just whipped cream, but only if it’s real. If it’s out of a can then nothing.”

The waitress stared at you as if you were from outer space. “No pie?”

“No, just the pie but then not heated.”

The waitress looked at Bucky, who just shrugged, before heading to the kitchen to pass along your instructions to the chef.

“So how come you broke up with Cameron?” Bucky asked.

“What makes you think we broke up?”

“Because if you didn’t break up, you wouldn’t be here with me. You’d be shacked up somewhere with Cameron the sex god.”

You glared at him indignantly. “Okay, first of all, I am not _with_ you. And second of all, it is none of your business why we broke up.”

He held up his hands placatingly. “You’re right, doll. I’m sorry. Forget I asked.”

“Well, if you must know, he was an extremely jealous person and I had these days of the week underpants…”

Bucky’s expression instantly changed from bored to intrigued at the mention of your underpants. “I’m sorry, did you say days of the week underpants?”

“Yes. They had the days of the week on them and I thought they were kind of funny. And then one day Cameron said to me, ‘You never wear Sunday.’ So suddenly he was all suspicious. Where was Sunday? Why didn’t I wear Sunday? Where had I left it? And I told him and he didn’t believe me.”

“So what happened to Sunday?”

“They don’t make Sunday,” you answered.

“Why not?”

“Because of God,” you replied solemnly, as if the answer should have been obvious. Bucky really wanted to laugh, but the look on your face told him that you were being completely serious.

He didn’t know what to make of you, but he was sure of one thing. He was never going to meet another dame as interesting as you.

**************************************

Bucky stared at you while you tried to calculate precisely how much your share of the bill was. He was fascinated. You were so animated over something so mundane. He’d offered to pay for the entire meal, but you were insistent that you pay your share, and so he’d sat back with a stupefied expression as you used your calculator to work out to the cent just how much you owed him.

It was weird. For some reason, you didn’t seem to be even the teensiest bit interested in him. Any other woman would have thrown herself at him by now, but you seemed to be completely immune to his charms. Bucky didn’t know whether to be impressed or offended, so he settled instead for amused confusion. It was sort of a refreshing change, spending time with a chick who didn’t seem to care about his looks.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you. You didn’t even seem to realise just how pretty you were. It was like you didn’t care that you were one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met.

Bucky couldn’t figure you out, and if there was one thing he hated, it wasn’t being able to figure someone out.

Time to turn the patented Barnes charm up to an eleven.

You looked up to find him staring at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite identify, but you were sure it wasn’t something good.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” you asked, wiping your face with the back of your hand in the hope that you hadn’t missed any errant crumbs from the apple pie.

You were met with a soft smile. “You’re a very attractive person.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you mumbled, your cheeks turning pink at the compliment.

“Dot never mentioned how attractive you are.”

“Well, maybe she doesn’t think I’m attractive.”

Bucky leant towards you. “I don’t think it’s a matter of opinion. You are very attractive.”

Was he hitting on you? Mere hours after leaving his girlfriend behind? What a jerk! You stood up quickly, glaring at him as you grabbed your handbag. “Dot is my friend.”

“So?”

You stared at him incredulously. “So you’re dating her!”

“So?”

“So you’re coming onto me!” you hissed, storming out of the diner with Bucky hot on your heels.

“No, I wasn’t! Can’t a guy tell a girl she’s attractive without it being a come on?”

You fumbled in your purse for your keys, and suddenly Bucky was standing right behind you. He continued talking. “Look, let’s just say for the sake of argument that it _was_ a come on. What do you want me to do about it? Take it back? I take it back, okay?”

“You can’t take it back!” you protested.

“Why not?”

You looked at him as if he was being particularly idiotic. “Because it’s already out there.”

“Oh, jeez, should we call the cops?”

Rolling your eyes, you threw the keys at him. “Just let it go.”

“Sure, let it go. No problem, doll. I can do that.” Starting the engine, he turned to you. “You wanna get a motel room?”

“Bucky…”

“You see what I did there? I didn’t let it go. I kept going with it.” He grinned at you expectantly, obviously anticipating you to find him just as irresistible as the waitress and Dot had.

“Bucky, I am telling you now. We are just going to be friends, okay? Nothing more.”

“Sure thing, doll. Just friends. It’s probably for the best anyway.” He was silent for approximately five seconds before he spoke again. “You realise that we can never actually be friends, right?”

“And why on earth not?” you asked, despite your better judgment.

“Because – and this is not a come on in any way – men and women can never be ‘just friends’ because the sex part always gets in the way.” He actually had the audacity to look completely serious as he made this ridiculous pronouncement.

“That is absolutely not true! I have a lot of male friends, and there is absolutely no sex involved.”

Bucky shook his head in disagreement. “No you don’t.”

“Yes I do!”

“No, doll, you only _think_ you do.”

You snorted. “What, are you saying that I’m having sex with all of these men without my knowledge?”

“No. What I’m saying is that they’re all thinking about having sex with you. I can guarantee that each and every guy you think you’re friends with wants to have sex with you.”

You gaped at him in disbelief. “They do not!”

“Yeah, they do.”

You sat, stunned, for several seconds, before asking, “How do you know?”

Bucky lifted an eyebrow. “Because, doll, no guy can ever just be friends with a woman that he finds attractive, because sooner or later he wants to have sex with her.”

“So what you’re saying is that a man can only be friends with a woman that he finds _unattractive_ ,” you pressed.

He pondered for a second. “Nah. Guys pretty much want to bang them, too.”

This man was impossible. “What if _they_ don’t want to have sex with _you?”_

He snorted. “That’s never happened. Besides, it doesn’t matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is already doomed, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Well, I can tell you right now, Bucky, that I do not want to have sex with you. So I guess that means that we are never going to be friends.”

“I guess so.”

You sighed somewhat wistfully. “That’s too bad. You were going to be the only person that I knew in New York.”

The two of you drove in silence the rest of the way.

**************************************

You pulled to a stop at the Washington Square Arch in Manhattan. Bucky leapt out of the car and opened the trunk, grabbing his bags. You got out as well, wanting to stretch your legs a bit. Eighteen hours in a car is hell, even with regular stops and changeovers with driving.

Bucky quirked his lips into a lopsided smile. “Thanks for the lift, doll.”

The old-fashioned term of endearment was starting to grow on you, so it was probably a good thing that you were never going to see him again. “Yeah. It’s been… interesting.”

“It was nice knowing you.”

“You too.”  
  
The two of you stood, staring awkwardly at each other, before an even more awkward handshake signalled your farewell. You hopped back into the car, fully prepared to take your leave of this aggravating man forever.

Just as Bucky turned to leave, you called after him. “Have a nice life, Bucky.”

He smiled again. “You too, doll.”

He turned and walked away, and that was the last time you saw Bucky Barnes.

Or so you thought.


	2. Hello Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You bump into Bucky several years after arriving in New York, and renew your acquaintance... somewhat reluctantly. 
> 
> When the two of you meet again a few years later, you find yourselves taking solace in each other’s company.

_JFK International Airport, seven years ago…_

Tony kept kissing you, telling you over and over how much he wanted you to stay and that he would make it worth your while if you didn’t get on the plane. Giggling, you tried to untangle yourself from his embrace. If he kept this up, you were going to miss your flight to LA, and there would be hell to pay from your boss if that happened.

Suddenly, a tap on Tony’s shoulder interrupted your canoodling. A dark-haired man with shoulder-length brown hair and intense grey-blue eyes stared at you for a brief second, before smiling at Tony. For some reason, he looked oddly familiar.

“Tony Stark! Man, I thought that was you! Bucky Barnes.”

He held out his hand expectantly, and Tony shook it with a big smile. “Barnes! How are you?”  
  
“Great! How ya doin'?”

“Fine, I’m doing fine.” Neither man noticed you trying to hide behind Tony. You recognised Bucky’s name as soon as you heard it, but thankfully he didn’t seem to recognise you.

“You still with the DA’s office?” Bucky asked.

Tony shook his head. “Nah, I switched to the other side. What about you?”

Bucky shrugged. “I work with a small firm that does political consulting.”

“Sounds great.” Tony suddenly remembered that you were with him, and placed a possessive arm around your shoulders. “Barnes, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Sweetie, this is Bucky Barnes. We used to live in the same building when we were just starting out here in New York.”

You gave a small smile, hiding your face when Bucky tried to get a closer look at your face. A strange expression crossed his face, but he smothered it with a smile at Tony. “Well, Stark, it was great to see you again, but I’ve got a plane to catch so I’d better run.”  
  
“Sure. Good to see you, Barnes.”

Bucky glanced at you once more, before heading towards the departure gate.

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God he couldn’t place me. I drove from college to New York with him five years ago and it was the worst eighteen hours of my life.”

Tony looked at you curiously. “What happened?”  
  
“He hit on me! Even though he was dating a friend of mine. So I told him no because he was with…” You frowned. “Oh, God, what was her name? I can’t remember her name! What kind of a person does that make me, Tony? I’m twenty-six years old and I can’t remember the name of the girl I was friends with in college, who was the reason I wouldn’t get involved with her boyfriend.”

Tony pursed his lips. “So what happened?”

“When?”  
  
“When he made a pass at you! When you told him no.”

You smiled up at your boyfriend. “Oh! I said that we would just be friends.”

You glared at the memory that rushed back at you. “And this part I remember very clearly. He said that men and women could never really just be friends. Isn’t that ridiculous? Do you think that’s true?”

Tony paused for a fraction longer than you really liked before he answered slowly. “No…”

You frowned. “Do you have any women friends, just friends?”

“No. But I will get one if it is so important to you,” he offered magnanimously. He was so adorably ridiculous. No wonder you were head over heels in love with him.

Tony kissed you again. “I’m going to miss you. I love you.”

Your eyes widened in astonishment. Tony had never said those words to you before. “You do?”

“Of course I do.”

“I love you, too.” You kissed him one last time before you heard the final boarding call for your flight. Reluctantly, you pulled away and made your way to the gate so that you wouldn’t miss your flight.

You kept hearing those three little words in your mind over and over as you settled in for the next couple of hours.

**************************************

The flight attendant came by to see if anybody would like a drink.

“Do you have any Bloody Mary mix?” you asked. As she nodded, you stopped her. “No, here’s what I would like, please. I’d like regular tomato juice filled up about three-quarters, then a splash of Bloody Mary mix, but just a little splash, and then a little piece of lime on the side.”

The bewildered attendant went to make your drink, and you felt a tap on your shoulder from the seat behind you. “SHIELD University, right?”

You found yourself staring into the blue-grey eyes of Bucky Barnes. Terrific.

“Yes,” you replied shortly, before turning back to your book.

“Did you look this good at SHIELD University?”  
  
“No.”

“Did we ever…” He made a crude gesture which was clearly meant to indicate that the two of you had sex, to which you huffily responded in the negative. The passenger seated next to you was having trouble containing his laughter.

“We drove together from college to New York after we graduated,” you clarified.

The passenger looked disappointed at that revelation. “Would you two like to sit together?” he offered.

Ignoring your protests, Bucky eagerly swapped places with the man. “You were a good friend of… um…”

You glared at Bucky as you suddenly remembered the name of the girl he was dating. “Dot. I can’t believe you don’t remember her name.”

No need to mention that you’d also forgotten it earlier.

“What? No, I remember Dot very well. What ever happened to her?”

You shrugged as you pretended to be engrossed in your novel. “I have no idea. We didn’t stay in touch after college.”

Bucky gaped at you. “You lost touch? But you were such good friends with her! You and I didn’t have sex because you were such good friends with her.”

“You were the one going out with her!”

“And was it worth it? The sacrifice for a friend that you don’t even keep in touch with?” You’d forgotten just how irritating that goddamn smirk of his was.

“Bucky, I understand that you might have some difficulty believing this, but I have never for a moment considered not sleeping with you to be a sacrifice.”

“Wow. Okay, doll. Fair enough.” He took a sip of his drink. “You were going to be a gymnast.”

“A journalist,” you corrected him.

“Right, that’s what I said. So, are you?”

“Yes, I am in fact a journalist. I work for Nick Fury at Marvel Magazine.”  
  
“Great! And you’re seeing Tony Stark. That’s great. You’ve been together, what, three weeks?”  
  
How the hell did he know that? “A month, actually. How did you know that?”

He shrugged. “When you take someone to the airport, it’s clearly at the early stages of a relationship. That’s why I have never ever taken anyone to the airport at the beginning of a relationship.”

Hoping you weren’t going to regret it, you asked, “And why not?”

“Because eventually the passion dies down, and you stop taking someone to the airport, and I never wanted someone to ask me why I never take them to the airport anymore. So I just don’t start. It’s easier that way.”

You felt intensely sorry for any woman that had the misfortune of being in a relationship with Bucky Barnes.

“It’s amazing, Bucky. You look like a nice, normal person but in reality you are the Angel of Death.”

Bucky continued to stare at you. “So are you gonna marry Tony?”

You sighed. “We have only known each other for a month. Besides, neither one of us is looking to get married right now.”

“Huh. _I’m_ getting married.”

You looked at him with disbelief. “You are?”

His grin lit up his entire face. He practically sparkled with happiness. It was a little disconcerting. How on earth had Bucky Barnes, of all people, managed to find someone willing to spend eternity with him? The most cynical person you had ever met was getting married, and it puzzled you.

“ _You_ are getting married?” you repeated. “Who is she?”

“Natasha Romanoff. She’s a lawyer, she’s keeping her name.”

You laughed. “You’re getting married?”

You kept chortling to yourself, clearly tickled at the thought of him getting married. Bucky was beginning to feel irritated. Why was it so funny to you? “What’s so funny?”

You snort-laughed. “It’s just so… so… _optimistic_ of you, Bucky.”

“Well, it’s amazing what falling madly in love can do for you.” He grinned at you, clearly absolutely lovesick at the thought of this woman.

“I must say, Bucky, it’s really nice to see you embracing life in this manner,” you told him sincerely.

“Yeah, I guess you just get to a certain point in your life where you just get tired of the whole thing, you know? The whole single guy thing. You meet someone, have the safe lunch date, get to know each other enough to move on to dinner. You go dancing, go back to her place for ‘coffee’…” Dear God, he used finger quotes. “… have sex and then the minute it’s over you know what goes through your mind?”

“I dread to think.”

“How long do I have to lie here and hold her before I can get up and go home? Is thirty seconds enough?” He looked at you seriously.

You grimaced. “Is that honestly what you are thinking?”

Bucky shrugged. “All men think that. How long do you like to be held afterwards? All night, right?”

Before you could answer, he continued. “See, that’s the problem. Somewhere between thirty seconds and all night is your problem.”

“I don’t have a problem,” you told him.

“Yeah, you do.”

You sat, feeling deflated. “God, this is the drive to New York all over again.”

**************************************

Bucky caught up to you on the travelator at the airport. “You staying overnight?”

“Yes,” you answered, your eyes not leaving the newspaper you were trying to read.

“Wanna have dinner?” He held his hands up placatingly at your scathing look. “Just as friends.”  
  
“I thought you said men and women could never be just friends,” you reminded him.

“When did I say that?”  
  
“On the ride to New York.”  
  
He shook his head in denial. “No, I never said that. But you’re right, they can’t be friends. Unless both of them are involved with other people. Then they can be friends. I’m amending my previous assertion about the whole male/female friendship thing. If both parties are already involved in relationships, then the pressure of possible involvement is lifted.”

As you hopped off the travelator, he amended his amendment. “No, see, that doesn’t work either. Because the person you’re involved with doesn’t understand why you need to be friends with someone of the opposite sex. Like, is there something missing from your relationship and if so, why did you have to go outside of the relationship to get it? And then when you deny that there’s anything missing from the relationship, the person you’re involved with accuses you of being secretly attracted to the person that you’re just friends with, which I mean, come on, you probably are, let’s face it, who are you kidding? Which brings us back to my earlier statement before the amendment which is that men and women can’t possibly be just friends. So where does that leave us, doll?”

Finally able to get a word in edgewise, you turned to him. “Goodbye, Bucky.”

“Wow. Okay. I guess I’ll see you around, doll.”  
  
He continued to walk beside you, despite your obvious dismissal of him. When you glared at him, he apologised somewhat half-heartedly and let you continue on your way.

You pretended to be relieved to escape his presence, even though a tiny part of you wished that he would continue the acquaintance.

This time you were positive that it was the last you would ever see of Bucky Barnes.

**************************************

_Six months ago…_

You sat with your friends Peggy Carter and Maria Hill as you waited to order lunch. Peggy was telling you both about her latest setback with her relationship with her boyfriend Phil.

“I searched his pockets and do you know what I found?”

“What?” asked Maria, who was always keen to hear gossip.

“A receipt for a dining room table,” Peggy moaned. “His wife just went out and spent $5,000 on a dining room table.”

“Where?” Maria queried.

Peggy looked at her despondently. “The point isn’t _where_ , Maria. The point is that he’s never going to leave her!”

“So what else is new? You’ve known this for the past four years,” Maria reminded her.

Peggy sighed sadly before taking a sip of her red wine. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“Why can’t you find someone single?” Maria demanded. “When I was single I knew lots of nice single men. Y/N found someone.”

Peggy nodded. “Y/N found a good one.”

You stared at the table as you mumbled, “Tony and I broke up.”

“Wait, what? When did this happen?” Peggy demanded.  
  
“Monday.”  
  
Maria gaped at you. “You waited three whole days to tell us this?”  
  
Peggy pursed her lips. “You mean Tony is available?” She winced as Maria kicked her under the table.

“God, Peggy, don’t you have any feelings at all? It’s obvious that Y/N is upset about this.”

“I’m not that upset,” you assured them both. “Tony and I have been growing apart for quite a while now. It was inevitable.”

“But you two were a couple! You had someone to go places with. You actually went on dates on national holidays!” Peggy cried.

“I said to myself ‘You deserve more than this. You’re thirty years old’…”

“And the clock is ticking,” Peggy nodded knowingly.

You shook your head. “Not true. The clock doesn’t really begin ticking until you are thirty-six.”

Maria looked at you admiringly. “God, you are in such great shape.”  
  
“Well, you know, I’ve had a few days to get used to it and you know what? I feel okay.” You smiled serenely.

“Good. Then you’re ready.” Peggy reached into her handbag and brought out a box of business cards. She started rifling through the names. “I’ve got the perfect guy for you. _I_ don’t find him attractive, but you might.”  
  
Peggy’s tone of voice indicated that your standards of attractiveness were much lower than hers.

“Peggy, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not ready to start dating again just yet.”

“But you just said that you were over Tony.”  
  
“I _am_ over him, but I’m in a mourning period.” You looked at Peggy. “Who is it?”  
  
“Loki Laufeyson.”

“Ugh. You fixed me up with him six years ago. It didn’t end well.”  
  
Peggy looked through her cards again. “I’m sorry! Okay, how about this one? James Rhodes.”

You stared at your friend. “He’s Tony’s best friend. Also, he’s been married for over a year now.”

“Really? Darn it.” Peggy marked an ‘X’ on Rhodey’s card before placing it back in the box. “All right. Wait, I’ve got one…”

“Peggy, stop. There is no point in me going out with someone who I might really like if I met him at the right time, but who right now has no chance of being anything to me other than a transitional man. I’m not looking for a rebound.”

“Yes, but you don’t want to leave it too long,” Peggy said. “Remember what happened with Scott Lang? His wife left him, everybody said give him some time, don’t move too fast… then six months later he was dead.”  
  
“What are you saying, that I should get married to someone in case he’s about to die?” you asked sarcastically.

Maria sighed dramatically. “At least you could say you were married.”

Peggy continued. “All I’m saying is that the right man could be out there waiting for you right now and if you don’t grab him, somebody else will, and then you will have to spend the rest of your life knowing that some other woman is married to _your_ husband.”

You weren’t even going to pretend that what Peggy said made any sort of sense.

**************************************

Bucky sat with his best friend, Steve Rogers, in the bleachers of MetLife Stadium as they sat watching the Giants and the Jets.

Steve was looking at his friend with shock. “When did this happen?”  
  
“Friday,” Bucky shrugged. “Natasha came home from work and told me she wasn’t sure she wanted to be married anymore. Like it’s no big deal, you know? Just something she’s been thinkin’ about in a casual way. So I’m calm, I say why don’t we take a few days to think about it, don’t rush into anything. Right?”

“Right,” Steve agreed.

“So the next day she says she’s thought about it, and she wants a trial separation. She just wants to try it, she says, but we can still date. Like that’s supposed to cushion the blow or something. I mean, the whole reason I got married in the first place was so that I could _stop_ dating. So I don’t see how we can date since the last thing you want to do is date your wife who’s supposed to love you, you know what I’m sayin’?”

Bucky took a bite of his hotdog, chewing carefully before he continued. “So then it occurs to me that maybe she doesn’t. So I asked her. I say to her, ‘Don’t you love me anymore?’ And she answers, ‘I don’t know if I’ve _ever_ loved you’.”

Steve winced. “Ouch. That’s harsh. Sorry, man. You don’t bounce back from that straight away.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky told him.  
  
Steve shook his head. “Buck, I’m a writer and I’m telling you, that statement is particularly harsh.”

“Then she tells me that someone in her office is going to South America and she can sublet his apartment. Then the doorbell rings. So I open the door, and there are removalists there. I start to get suspicious. I asked Natasha when she called the removalists but she doesn’t answer. So I asked the moving guys when she booked them, and one of them told me she called them a week ago. So I said, ‘You’ve known for a week and you didn’t tell me?’ And you know what she told me? She said, ‘I didn’t want to ruin your birthday.’ Like she was doin’ me a favour, you know?”

Steve frowned. “So you’re saying the removalists knew you were getting a divorce a week before you did?”

“That’s what I’m sayin’.”

“I can’t believe this,” Steve muttered.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. “I haven’t told you the bad part yet.”  
  
“It gets worse?”

He nodded. “It’s all a lie. She’s in love with somebody else. Some guy who represented the US in archery at the last Olympics. I don’t even know how she met him. She moved in with him.”

“How do you know?” Steve asked.

“I followed her. I stood outside the building while he helped her move her things inside.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief yet again. “That’s so humiliating.”

“Tell me about it.” Bucky sighed. “You know, I knew all along. I knew the whole time that even though we were happy, it was all just an illusion, and that one day she would just kick the shit out of me.”

Steve disagreed. “Marriages don’t end because of infidelity, Buck. It’s just a symptom that something else is wrong.”

Bucky stared at his friend incredulously. “Oh yeah? Well, that symptom is named Clint, and he’s currently fucking my wife.”

**************************************

You were browsing the books of the quirky little bookstore you’d discovered on your way to work one morning, eager to find something new to read. Peggy had followed you, describing yet again her heartache at discovering further evidence that Phil was still very much married.

“He just spent a hundred and twenty dollars on a new nightgown for his wife,” she wailed. “I don’t think he’s ever going to leave her.”

You stared at your friend over the rims of your glasses. “Peggy, _nobody_ thinks he is ever going to leave her.”

She sighed. “You’re right, Y/N. Of course you’re right.”

She looked up and noticed a man staring intently in your direction. An exceedingly handsome man, with shoulder-length dark hair, a delectably stubbled jawline, and piercing blue-grey eyes. Just the sort of man she should be attracted to. Naturally, therefore, she wasn’t the slightest bit interested. She sidled up to you and spoke softly. “Someone is staring at you from the self-help section.”

You flicked your eyes sideways and noticed Bucky Barnes, of all people. He noticed you looking, and pretended to suddenly be engrossed in the book he held. You sniffed disdainfully. “You’d like him, Peggy. He’s married.”

Peggy suddenly looked intrigued. “Who is he?”

“Bucky Barnes. He’s a political consultant.”  
  
“What kind of a name is Bucky? Did he offend his parents somehow?”

You shook your head. “It’s a nickname. His real name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

“He’s cute,” Peggy said.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You think he’s cute?”

There really was no accounting for taste.

“How do you know he’s married?”  
  
You shrugged. “Last time I saw him, he told me he was getting married.”  
  
“And how long ago was that?” Peggy demanded.

“About five or six years ago,” you told her.

Peggy rolled her eyes. “So he might not be married anymore.”

“Also, he’s completely obnoxious.”  
  
Peggy seemed delighted. “This is just like in all of those old movies you watch! When the lady tells the guy, ‘You’re the most obnoxious man I’ve ever met’…”

“The most contemptable,” you corrected her.

“And then they fall madly in love with each other.”

You flicked through the pages of the book you held. “Also, he never remembers me.”

Naturally, Bucky chose that moment to come over. “Y/N Y/L/N, I thought that was you.” The smile on his face seemed genuine.  
  
You returned his smile with a small one of your own. “Hi, Bucky. It’s been a while. Oh, this is Peggy...”

You turned to introduce him to your friend, only to find her heading for the exit. She paused briefly to wave goodbye to both of you before leaving you alone with Bucky. Traitor.

“How are you?” he asked, seeming genuinely pleased to see you.

“Fine.”

“How’s Tony?”  
  
Your smile dropped. “Fine. I hear he’s fine.”

Bucky’s expression grew concerned. “You’re not with Tony anymore?”  
  
“We broke up recently.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. That’s too bad,” he said sincerely.

“Yeah, well, you know, these things happen,” you said, trying a little too hard to sound cheerful. “What about you, Bucky? How’s married life treating you?”

“Not so good. I’m getting a divorce.”

Shit. Now you felt terrible for making him sad. “Oh, Bucky, I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, well, what are you gonna do?” Bucky shrugged.

You looked at him for a moment, before grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the bookstore before he could protest.

You knew exactly what you were going to do.

**************************************

Sitting opposite Bucky at your favourite coffee shop, you took a sip of your cappuccino. He had finished telling you about his impending divorce, and he was now listening avidly to your description of your breakup with Tony.

“When Tony and I first started seeing each other, we wanted exactly the same things out of life. We wanted to live together but we didn’t want to get married, because every time someone we knew got married it ruined their relationship. They practically never had sex again.”

At Bucky’s wry grin, you continued. “It’s true! That’s one of the secrets that nobody ever tells you. Whenever I talk to any of my girlfriends who have kids – actually, just my one friend who has kids, Maria – she would sit around and complain about how she and her husband never have sex anymore. She didn’t even complain, now that I think about it. She just said it really matter of fact, like they were up all night with the kids, they were exhausted, and the kids just took every sexual impulse they had right out of them. It’s so depressing to think about.”

You shook your head at the thought of never having sex again. It was too horrible to contemplate. “Tony and I used to say how lucky we were, how we had such a great relationship and we were so lucky that we didn’t have kids to ruin it all. We could have sex whenever we wanted, wherever we wanted, and we didn’t have to worry about the kids walking in while we were fucking on the kitchen floor.”

Bucky choked a bit at your casual use of the word ‘fuck’. You’d always seemed so ladylike, so prim and proper to him. It startled him that you’d use such a crude word, and yet he found it oddly endearing.

“You know, Tony and I used to say that we could to fly off to Rome at the drop of a hat if we really wanted to. Just because we could. And then one day, I was looking after Maria’s little girl, I promised to take her to the circus. We were in the back of the cab playing ‘I spy’, and she looked out the window and she spotted this couple with two little kids. And the man had one of the kids on his shoulders and she said ‘I spy a family’. And I started to cry. Just, sobbing uncontrollably. And I went home and I said to Tony that we never did fly to Rome at a moment’s notice; we never fucked on the kitchen floor; we never did any of the things that we talked about doing.”

Bucky made a sympathetic noise, and grabbed one of your hands in his. He gave it a squeeze, his eyes conveying his understanding of the pain that you were feeling.

“Anyway, Tony and I talked about it some more, and I said that I wanted to get married and have a family and he said that he didn’t. So I said that I guess that meant that it was over, and he left.” You scrunched your nose up before speaking again. “And the thing is, I feel just fine. I always thought I’d be a broken mess if Tony and I didn’t work out, but I’m totally fine. I’m really over him and everything is okay. He gave me everything that he could, and the more I think about it, the more I am convinced that breaking up was the right thing to do.”

Bucky smiled. “Good for you, doll.”

**************************************

The two of you walked through Central Park. “At least I got the apartment.”  
  
Bucky nodded. “That’s what everyone says to me, too. But really, what’s so hard about finding an apartment? All you do is read the obituary column.”

You laughed, and he went on. “It’s true! You find out who died, go to the apartment building, and then you tip the doorman. If they really wanted to make things easier for everyone, they’d combine the obituaries with the real estate section, and they could say something like, ‘Mr Burns has died, leaving behind his wife and children, and a lovely 3x1 in the Upper East Side’. It’s perfect.”

The two of you chuckled before continuing in comfortable silence for several moments. Bucky looked at you sideways. “You know, when we first met, I didn’t really like you that much.”

“Well, I didn’t like you either,” you admitted.

“Yeah, you did,” he disagreed. “You were really uptight back then. You’re much more easygoing now.”

You stopped walking and put your hands on your hips. “I _hate_ that sort of comment. It _sounds_ like it’s a compliment, but really it’s an insult.”

“Fine, doll. You’re still as hard as nails.”  
  
You started walking again, suddenly remembering why you had originally detested Bucky so much. “I just didn’t want to sleep with you, so naturally you had to turn that rejection into a character flaw of mine, rather than considering the possibility that it might actually have something to do with you.”

Bucky was silent for a few seconds. “What’s the statute of limitations on apologies?”  
  
You pretended to think about it. “Ten years.”  
  
“Oooh, so I can just sneak it in then.”

The two of you grinned at each other. Biting your lower lip, you hesitated slightly before asking, “Would you like to have dinner with me some time? Not as a date, just as…”

“Just as friends?” Bucky finished. “Are we actually becoming friends?”  
  
“I guess so.”

“Wow. A woman friend. Never thought it was possible.” Bucky held out his arm gallantly, and you laughingly linked your own through his. “You know, doll, you might just be the first attractive woman that I have not wanted to sleep with.”  
  
“That’s wonderful, Bucky. You’re making progress.”

The two of you continued in companionable silence, wondering what the future held now that the two of you had decided to be friends. The world was full of possibilities, and you couldn’t wait to explore them together.


	3. The Start of a Beautiful Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Bucky deepen your friendship by discussing literally anything and everything, day or night, and both of you decide it’s time to get back into the dating game.

_Present day…_

Your phone rang, and you checked the caller ID. “Hey, Bucky.”  
  
“You asleep, doll?”  
  
“No, genius. I’m watching ‘ _Casablanca’_.”  
  
“Oh, what channel? We can watch it together.” You told him and he turned on his TV, watching his favourite movie with his favourite person. “So you’re really gonna try to tell me that you’d be happier with Victor Laszlo than with Humphrey Bogart?”  
  
“When did I ever say that?”  
  
“On the drive from college to New York!”  
  
You huffed. “I said no such thing. I would never have said something so preposterous.”

“Fine.” A moment of silence. “You been sleepin’ okay, doll? ‘Cause I haven’t really been sleepin’ much lately.”

“Why not?” you asked, your voice filled with concern.  
  
“Dunno. Guess I just miss Natasha. I really miss her.” He sighed. “Maybe I’m comin’ down with somethin’. Last night I found myself watching the Home Shopping Network and seriously contemplating buying myself a new set of steak knives.”

“Well, I went to bed at seven-thirty, which I haven’t done since the third grade.”

“Hey, do you find yourself still sleepin’ on the same side of the bed?” he asked.

You snuggled further under the blankets, glad that you had nobody to steal them from you. “At first I did, but now I find myself sprawling over the entire thing. It’s great. I can lie however I want and I don’t have to worry about anyone complaining that I’m encroaching on their side.”

“It still feels weird when my leg wanders over to Natasha’s side of the bed. I miss her. It’s been six months and I still really miss her.” Bucky’s voice was filled with sadness, and your heart ached for him. He was such a great guy. He deserved to have someone in his life who could really appreciate him.

“Well, I don’t miss Tony. Not even a little bit.” You paused, then amended your statement. “I think I just miss the _idea_ of him.”

“Maybe I miss the idea of Natasha.” Bucky sighed again. “No, I miss all of Natasha.”

“Oh, it’s the final scene,” you said, sitting up straighter. This last part of the movie always made you cry.  
  
“Man, that Ingrid Bergman,” Bucky said appreciatively. “She’s low maintenance.”

“What?”

“There are two types of women in the world, high maintenance and low maintenance,” he clarified. “She’s low maintenance.”

“Well then, what am I?” you asked curiously.

You could hear the grin in Bucky’s voice as he answered. “You’re the worst kind. You’re high maintenance, but you think you’re low maintenance.”

“I am not!”

“Really?” He spoke in a slightly higher pitch, doing a rather poor imitation of you. “Waiter, I’ll have to house salad but not with the regular dressing. I’ll have the balsamic vinegar reduction but on the side, not on the salad. And I’ll have the fish with mustard sauce not lemon butter, but I’d like the mustard sauce on the side. You always do that sort of thing.”

You huffed. “Well, I just want it the way I want it. Why is that so hard to understand?”

“See, doll? You’re high maintenance.”

The final scene of the movie ended, and you both agreed that the final line was the absolute best last line of any movie ever made. “This is the start of a beautiful friendship,” you recited together as Humphrey Bogart walked off into the distance.

You yawned, and Bucky reluctantly said goodnight. Talking to you always made him feel better, and it helped calm his mind. “Sleep tight, doll.”  
  
“You too, Buckaroo."

**************************************

“So I had that dream again,” Bucky said as you walked towards Central Park. “You know, the one where I’m makin’ love and the Olympic judges are watchin’ me? So I’ve nailed the compulsories, so this is it, the finals. I scored a 9.8 from the Canadians, a perfect 10 from the Americans, and then the British judge gave me a 5.6. I think it was the dismount.”

He grinned with satisfaction as you snorted soda out of your nose at that final comment.

“Well, I’ve been having the same dream that I’ve been having for the past few months,” you told him. “There’s this guy. I don’t know what he looks like, he’s kind of faceless. Anyway, he rips off my clothes.”  
  
You stop, and Bucky waits expectantly. “And then what happens?” he prompted, when no further details were forthcoming.  
  
You shrugged. “That’s it.”

“That’s it? Some faceless guy rips off your clothes, and nothing else happens, and _that_ is the sex fantasy you’ve been having since you were twelve?”

When he realised that you weren’t joking, Bucky didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

**************************************

The two of you strolled through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, having reached the mutual decision that your afternoon would be more pleasantly occupied by making fun of everything on display, rather than sitting in your respective apartments alone and wondering why life was so shit.

As usual, Bucky had decided that making you laugh was his mission for the day.

“So I ‘ave decided zat for ze rest of ze day we are going to talk like zis,” Bucky proclaimed in an outrageous French accent.

You attempted to copy him, unable to control your giggles. It was so ridiculous, and so completely like Bucky, that you couldn’t stop laughing.

“So would you like to go to ze movies wiz me, mademoiselle?” he asked, bowing with a flourish.

You started to copy him again, but he stopped you. “Don’t repeat ze question. Just answer eet. Would you like to go to ze movies wiz me tonight?”

You stopped laughing. “Oh, Bucky, I would love to but I can’t.”

“Why not? You ‘ave got ze ‘ot date tonight, yes?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah,” you admitted slowly.

His eyes widened. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah. I was going to tell you, but… I don’t know, I guess I just felt a bit weird about it.”

“Why, doll?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess because we’ve been spending so much time together recently, and I just thought maybe you’d be upset.”  
  
Bucky shook his head. “No way, doll. I think it’s great that you have a date.”  
  
“You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” He glanced over you. “Is that what you’re going to wear?”

You looked down at your tailored pants and woollen blazer, wondering what was wrong with your outfit. You thought you looked quite smart, but clearly Bucky didn’t agree. “Why? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Bucky looked at you speculatively. “You oughtta wear skirts more often. You look great in skirts. You got really nice legs.”

You could feel yourself blushing, even though you knew he meant nothing untoward by the compliment. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

It was your turn to gaze at him seriously. “You know, Bucky, I think it’s time you started dating again, too.”

He shook his head vehemently. “Oh, no, Y/N. I’m not ready, I wouldn’t be good for anyone right now.”

You took both of his hands in yours and looked into his eyes, making him squirm uncomfortably. “Bucky, it’s been six months. Stop being a wuss. It’s time. Jump back in the water, see what’s out there.”

“And what if all that’s out there is Jaws?”

You pondered. “Well, then, it’s been nice knowing you. Can I have your apartment? It’s a lot nicer than mine.”

He laughed and slung an arm around your shoulders as you continued through the museum. “I’ll make sure to leave it to you in my will, doll.”

**************************************

You and Bucky were struggling to get his new rug to fit in his living room, while he was complaining about his failed dinner date the previous evening. “It was a disaster. It was hands down the most uncomfortable night of my life.”

“Well, the first date back is always the toughest one, Bucky.”

He snorted. “What would you know? You only had one date. How do you know it’s not going to get worse?”

“How much worse can it get than finishing dinner, have him reach over and pull a hair out of my head and then start flossing with it at the table?” you demanded.   
  
“Doll, that sounds like a dream date compared to the nightmare I went through. It started out fine. She’s a very nice person. So we’re sitting there at this Cambodian restaurant that she wanted to go to, and we’re talking, and I was joking around, you know, like I do. So we made small talk, I ask her where she went to college and she said Michigan State. And that just reminded me of Natasha. Then all of a sudden I’m in the middle of this massive anxiety attack, my heart starts beating like a marching band and I start sweating like a pig.”

“You know pigs don’t actually sweat,” you pointed out. “Wait, Natasha went to Michigan State?”

“No, she went to Northwest, but they’re both Big Ten schools,” Bucky told you. “I got so upset I had to leave the restaurant.”

You flopped down on his new rug, and he sat down next to you and rested his head on your shoulder. “Bucky, I think this is going to take us some time. I think it’s going to be months before either of us actually enjoys going out with someone new.”

“Yeah,” he agreed despondently.

“And even longer before we’re comfortable enough to even think about going to bed with someone new.”

“Oh, I slept with her,” Bucky said matter-of-factly.

You stared at him in shock. “You what?”

“I slept with her,” he repeated.

“Huh.”

Maybe Bucky was more ready to return to dating than you’d previously thought.

**************************************

“I don’t get your relationship,” Steve admitted as he swung and missed.

Bucky grunted with satisfaction when his own swing connected, sending the baseball flying towards the back of the net. “What do you mean?”

“You enjoy being with this girl?”

“Yeah.”

“You find her attractive?” Steve continued.

“I think she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

“But you’re not sleeping with her?” The confusion in Steve’s voice was evident.

“No, I’m not.”  
  
Steve swung and missed again. “You know what your problem is, Buck? You’re afraid to let yourself be happy.”

“Why can’t you give me credit for this, you punk? This is a big deal for me. I’ve never ever had a relationship with a woman that didn’t involve sex. I feel like I’m growing as a person.” He swung again. “It’s actually pretty refreshing. I can talk to Y/N about anything.”

“Anything? Really?” Steve looked doubtful. “Are you telling me that you can talk to this woman about stuff that you can’t tell me?”

“No, it’s just different. It’s a whole different perspective. I get the woman’s point of view on things. She tells me about the guys she’s going out with, and I talk to her about the women that I’m seeing.”

“You talk to her about other women?”

Bucky shrugged. “Well, yeah. Like, the other night I went out with this lady, had sex with her, it was incredible. I took her to this whole other place, she actually meowed.”

Steve dropped his bat. “You made a woman meow?”

“Sure. But that’s what I’m talking about. I can say this sort of stuff to Y/N, and the great thing is that I never have to lie to her because I’m not constantly thinking about how to get her to go to bed with me. It’s the most honest relationship I’ve ever had and I really appreciate it. I can just be myself with her, you know?”

“You made a woman _meow?”_

**************************************

You and Bucky met at your favourite diner, where he was treating you to dinner.

“So what do you do with all of these women? You just hop out of bed and leave?” you asked with disapproval, as you speared a cherry tomato with your fork. Apparently, Bucky’s cure for getting over his divorce was to sleep with as many women as possible.

“Sure,” he admitted, taking a huge bite of his burger.

“So how do you do it? Explain it to me. What do you say?”

He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I say I’ve got an early meeting or a conference call or a basketball game…”

“You don’t play basketball. You hate basketball,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, but they don’t know that. They just met me.”

You put your fork down and glared at him. “That’s disgusting, Bucky.”  
  
“I know, doll. I feel absolutely terrible about it.” He didn’t actually sound upset, so you doubted the sincerity of his statement.

“You know, hearing this stuff makes me so glad that I never got involved with you,” you said, stabbing a piece of lettuce rather aggressively. “I would have just ended up being some woman that you had to get up out of bed at three in the morning and leave because you had to go and iron your underwear. And you don’t even own an iron.”

Bucky stared at you in bewilderment. He couldn’t understand why you were so angry with him. “Why are you so upset, Y/N? This is not about you."

“Yes it is!” you contradicted. “You are a human affront to women everywhere, and in case it has escaped your attention, I am a woman.”

It hadn’t escaped his attention, but he knew better than to actually say that. “Look, I don’t feel great about it, but I don’t hear any complaints from the chicks I’ve been dating.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course you don’t, because you’re out the door too fast.”

“I think they enjoy their time with me,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“I just know,” he said, that signature smirk adorning his ridiculously handsome face.

“Why? Because they…” You waved your hand in the air vaguely, but Bucky immediately knew what you were talking about.

“Yes, doll, because they…” He imitated your gesture, his smirk widening.

“But how do you know that they’re really…” You gestured again.

“What are you saying? That they’re faking an orgasm?” Bucky seemed astounded that you would think so little of his sexual prowess.

You shrugged. “I’m just saying that it’s possible you aren’t as good as you think you are.”

“Unbelievable. It’s not possible, doll."

“Why not? Every woman has, at one time or another, faked an orgasm.”

Those blue-grey eyes blinked several times. “Well, they’ve never faked it with me.”

You took a bite of your salad. “How do you know?”

“Because I know,” he retorted, somewhat smugly.

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot,” you said sarcastically. “You’re a man. And every man is convinced that he is a sexual magician in bed, whereas every woman has faked an orgasm at least once in their lives, so you do the math.”

“You don’t think that I could tell the difference?” Bucky demanded.

“No, I don’t.”

Bucky snorted. “You’re delusional, doll. Trust me, if a woman had ever faked an orgasm with me, I would damn well know about it.”

He returned to his burger, but frowned when you made a strange sound. You started groaning softly. He noticed that you’d stopped eating, and wondered if you were suddenly struck with a bout of food poisoning. He was going to have words with the chef if the food had made you ill. “You okay, doll?”

“Oooooooooooh,” you moaned. “Oh, God…”

You had a strange expression on your face, almost like a grimace of pain. It seemed as if you were starting to feel feverish, as you started rubbing your face as if you were wiping away perspiration. But after a few moments, it was clear that you weren’t unwell. In fact, if your breathy moans were anything to go by, you were feeling _very_ well.

You started breathing heavily, and your moans increased in volume as you began running your hands through your hair. Bucky dropped his burger as he stared at you with morbid fascination.

“What are you doing, doll?” he hissed, even though he had a sneaking suspicion of what you were up to.

“Oh, God, right there! God, oh oh oh oh! Yes, yes, oh my God, Bucky! YES!” You started thrashing your head from side to side and banging your fists on the table, ignoring the stares of the other patrons in the diner as you proceeded to demonstrate just how good you were at faking what appeared to be the orgasm to end all orgasms.

Bucky had never seen this side of you. He’d never even suspected that it existed, but he was suddenly more turned on than he’d been the first time he’d seen Betty Ross’s boobs in eighth grade.

With one final, ear splitting “YES!!!” you immediately composed yourself and, smiling serenely at him, returned to your salad as if nothing had happened.

Bucky decided it was time to find a new favourite diner.

**************************************

You laughed as Bucky twirled you around the dance floor at the New Year’s Eve party he’d been invited to. You smiled at him, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear. “I like you without your beard. I can actually see your face.”

“You like my face, huh?” he asked playfully.  
  
You swatted his shoulder. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. You have a very nice face.”

To hide his embarrassment at your compliment, Bucky dipped you backwards, causing you to laugh even harder as you nearly overbalanced in the middle of the dance floor. He was a great dancer, and you were having more fun that you’d had in a long time.

“Hey, Bucky, I just want to thank you for taking me out tonight.”

“No problems, doll. And next New Year, if neither one of us is seeing anybody, you already got yourself a date.” He smiled at you, happy that you seemed to be enjoying yourself. Neither of you had had much luck in the dating game recently, and it was nice to spend time with someone that he could just be himself around, rather than having to try and impress someone new. Bucky was never uncomfortable when he was with you.

“Deal,” you smiled back, laying your head on his shoulder as the two of you swayed from side to side.

Bucky breathed in your familiar vanilla scent, and suddenly felt the urge to kiss you. He didn’t know where that thought had come from, and he tried to suppress it. You were his best friend, and there was no way he was going to ruin this friendship.

You seemed to notice the shift in the air, because you pulled back and looked at him curiously. It was like he was really seeing you for the first time, and Bucky was certain that you could hear his heart hammering away in his chest. He swallowed. “You wanna go get some air?”  
  
You nodded, unable to say anything, and he led you outside just as the countdown to the New Year started.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Party poppers popped, streamers flew, and happy couples canoodled to see in the new year. You and Bucky stood staring at each other awkwardly for a few seconds, before you both started giggling.

“Happy new year, Y/N,” he said softly.

“Happy new year, Bucky.”

You both hesitated, before planting a very brief, chaste kiss on each other’s lips. Giggling again, you pulled him close for a hug, and Bucky suddenly felt that he never wanted to let you go.

He wasn’t sure where that feeling had come from, but he had the premonition that it wasn’t going to lead to anything but trouble.


	4. Eye of the Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Bucky try to set each other up with the perfect partner, but it doesn’t turn out the way either of you anticipated. But as one love story brings you both joy, another comes back to haunt Bucky.

“Wait a minute. You sent flowers to yourself?” you asked with some confusion.

Peggy nodded. “I spent sixty dollars on this huge, stupid arrangement of flowers and I also wrote this card that I just happened to leave on the front table where Phil would just happen to see it.”  
  
Yes, despite the best efforts of yourself and Maria, Peggy was still involved with married, philandering Phil. You shook your head. “So what did the card say?”

Peggy looked rueful. “It said, ‘Please say yes. Love, Jonathan’.”

“Did it work?”  
  
“No! He didn’t even come over!” Peggy wailed. “He forgot that he had to attend some stupid charity thing that his wife is chairman of. He’s never going to leave her!”

It had been five years, and you really thought that Peggy – who was not an unintelligent woman – would have reached this conclusion much earlier.

“So where is this place?” Peggy whined.  
  
“Just a little further down the block.” You and Bucky had agreed to meet at Café Luxembourg, and to drag your friends along in the hopes that the spark of romance might be ignited.  
  
Peggy smacked herself in the head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Look, Bucky is one of my best friends, and you are also one of my best friends, and if by some chance the two of you hit it off then we can all still be friends instead of inevitably drifting apart like you do when you meet someone who doesn’t know any of your friends.”

“But you and I haven’t drifted apart since I started seeing Phil,” Peggy objected.

You stopped walking and looked at your friend seriously. “Peggy, if one day Phil ever did leave his wife, and I ever met him, I have absolutely no doubt that eventually you and I would drift apart.”

“He’s never going to leave her,” she said sadly.

You shook your head. “Of course he isn’t. Which is why I want you to at least _meet_ Bucky.”

**************************************

Steve scowled. “I don’t know about this, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s just dinner.”

“I’m finally at a place in my life where I’m comfortable with the fact that it’s just me and my work,” Steve said. “If this girl is so great then why aren’t _you_ taking her out?”

Bucky groaned. “How many times do I have to tell ya, punk? Y/N and I are just friends.”

“So what you’re saying is that she’s not that attractive.”  
  
“No, I’ve already told you that she is extremely attractive.”  
  
“But not attractive enough for you to date,” Steve persisted. “And you also said that she has a great personality.”

“She does have a great personality!” Bucky was offended on your behalf. How dare this punk infer that you couldn’t possibly be anything less than wonderful.

Steve threw his hands up in the air. “If a person is not really that attractive, they are always described as having a great personality.”

“Look, if you had asked me what she looked like and all I said was that she has a good personality, then you would know that she’s not that attractive. But just because I happen to mention that she has a good personality, she could be either. She could be attractive with a good personality, or _unattractive_ with a good personality.”

“So which one is it?”

“Attractive,” Bucky said without hesitation.

“But not beautiful, right?” Steve was determined to find some sort of loophole.

Bucky just shook his head and continued walking, and eventually Steve decided to join him again.

**************************************

You sat next to Bucky’s friend Steve Rogers. He’d studied journalism, like you, but had decided to go freelance rather than work for a newspaper as it allowed him more freedom to write what was important to him, and often submitted articles to various magazines around the country. You had a lot in common with him. He was extremely good looking. Slightly taller than Bucky, with sandy blond hair, a fantastic physique, and the bluest eyes you had ever seen.

He was also incredibly boring.

Bucky didn’t seem to be hitting it off with Peggy either, which was a shame. He thought she was extraordinarily beautiful, with long dark hair and a style that reminded him of forties-era screen sirens. But he just couldn’t even pretend to be interested in what she was talking about.

It was going to make for a very awkward dinner.

“So, what does everyone want to order?” Bucky asked, in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence which had descended upon the table.

“Well, I’m going to start with the grilled radicchio,” you said promptly.

Bucky grinned as he decided to talk you up to his friend. “Steve, Y/N is the best at ordering. She not only always orders the best thing on the menu, but she orders it in a way that even the chef didn’t know just how good it could be.”

“I think restaurants have become too self-important,” Steve muttered.

Peggy murmured her agreement. “Restaurants today are what theatre was to people in the sixties. I read that in a magazine.”  
  
Steve stared at her appreciatively. “I wrote that.”

“Oh, stop it,” Peggy giggled.

“No, really! I wrote that,” Steve repeated, his smile appearing for the first time since agreeing to this ridiculous double date.

“I’ve never quoted anything from a magazine in my life. That’s amazing, don’t you think that’s amazing?” Peggy gushed.

“I also wrote about microbreweries being the new sushi bars,” he added proudly.

“Get out of here! You did not!” Peggy smiled at him. “Where did I read that again?”  
  
“Marvel Magazine.”

Bucky pointed to you. “You know, Steve, Y/N writes for Marvel Magazine.”  
  
Steve nodded at you briefly, before turning his attention once again to Peggy, who told him how much of an impact that piece had on her. He preened a little. “It spoke to you and that pleases me.”

“I really admire people who are that articulate,” Peggy continued.

The two of them talked across the table at each other over dinner, while you and Bucky stared at each other in bemusement.

It appeared that the dates you had picked preferred each other to your best friend, which struck both of you as more than a little depressing.

**************************************

As the four of you left the restaurant, it was apparent to everyone that the night hadn’t turned out quite as any of you had anticipated.  
  
Peggy paused outside a shop window, ostensibly to gaze at the shoes in the window display, and grabbed your arm so you couldn’t walk off. “Tell me honestly, Y/N, what do you think of Steve?”

“Well, uh…” You started, trying to find a diplomatic way to say that he wasn’t your type, even though he seemed very nice.

“Do you think you would ever go out with him?” Peggy urged.

“I don’t know, Peggy…”  
  
“Because I feel really comfortable with him,” she continued as if you hadn’t answered.

“You want to date Steve.”  
  
She nodded. “Only if that would be alright with you, though. I know your friend wanted you to meet him.”

“Oh, sure, go ahead. I’m just worried about Bucky, you know? He’s very fragile right now. He’s going through a bit of a rough patch and I don’t want you to reject him right now, he’s very sensitive.” For some reason, the thought of Peggy hurting your best friend made your blood boil.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll let him down gently,” Peggy assured you.

Steve and Bucky had stopped a few feet away. “Hey, Buck, if you don’t think you’re going to call Peggy, do you mind if I do?”

“No, no, knock yourself out. Only… maybe just for tonight you shouldn’t,” Bucky replied, suddenly extremely protective of your feelings. “I mean, Y/N’s very vulnerable right now. You can call Peggy, sure, but maybe just wait a week or so before you do. Don’t make any moves tonight, okay?”  
  
Steve looked relieved. “Sure, pal.”

The two of them smiled as you and Peggy joined them once again.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel much like walking any more tonight,” Steve said. “I’m going to catch a cab.”  
  
“I’ll go with you,” Peggy said immediately, scurrying after him.

You and Bucky stood together, watching as your friends disappeared in a yellow cab.

“Well, that went well,” Bucky said sarcastically.

You agreed, and the two of you walked through the city streets, arm in arm, wondering where you’d both gone wrong.

**************************************

_Two months later…_

Bucky dunked the basketball, acting for all the world like he was the next Michael Jordan. “Yes! Barnes scores a touchdown for the win!”

You snorted. “Touchdowns are in football, you idiot. Besides, we’re here because we’re supposed to be finding the perfect housewarming gift for Peggy and Steve, not to act out whatever sporting fantasy you didn’t get to fulfil in high school.”

He pouted, which shouldn’t have looked as adorable as it did. Putting the ball down, he walked beside you as you browsed the department store. “Oh, Y/N, you can stop looking! I have found the perfect gift!”

He practically bounced over to the karaoke machine.

“Okay, now I know you have finally lost whatever marbles you still had. Why on earth would you think that Steve and Peggy would want one of these?” You didn’t know if Steve could sing or not, but Peggy was completely incapable of carrying a tune in a bucket.

“Because, doll, inside each and every one of us is a stage diva just dying to break free.” He grinned at you, holding out a microphone expectantly.

You held up your hands in protest. “Oh, no, Bucky. I don’t sing.”

“Sure you do, doll. I’ve heard you a million times in the car.”

“Yeah, but that’s different! I don’t sing in front of other people!” you objected.

“I’m other people,” he pointed out.

“No, you’re Bucky, so you don’t count.” No way were you going to let him go through with this.

“Please, doll. You have a great voice. Sing with me, pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?”

No fair. Not only was he pouting again, but now he was throwing in the puppy dog eyes as well. Bucky was fighting dirty and you could feel your resolve crumbling. You never could resist his kicked puppy face.

“Oh, all right. What are we subjecting the masses to?”

He scanned the song list. “How about this one?” He started singing a big band classic, _‘It Had To Be You’._

 _It had to be you, it had to be you_ _  
I wandered around and finally found, that somebody who  
Could make me be true  
Could make me feel blue  
And even be glad just to be sad, thinking of you_ _…_

His voice trailed off. Just as you were about to start singing the next verse, you saw Bucky’s expression change. It looked as if he’d suddenly developed a severe case of indigestion. You were about to ask whether he was feeling alright, when he grabbed your hand as if his life depended on it.

“Bucky, what on earth are you…?”

“It’s Natasha,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

Oh. His ex-wife, who was walking towards him hand in hand with a scruffy blond male, both wearing smiles on their faces. But while the man’s smile seemed friendly, she looked positively smug. You had never met Natasha, but you had the sudden urge to punch her in the face.

“Bucky. How are you?” she asked, almost sounding sincere.

“Fine.”

Her eyes flicked to you briefly, and a slight frown creased her brow when she noticed Bucky holding your hand. Her grip on her own partner tightened, and she smiled brightly, although it didn’t reach her eyes. “This is Clint Barton. Clint, this is Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky,” Clint said, sounding much more genuine than Natasha had. He shook hands with Bucky, who looked like he’d rather be having his teeth extracted without anaesthetic.

Natasha stood looking at you pointedly for a few seconds, and Bucky suddenly remembered his manners. “Oh! This is Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, this is Natasha Romanoff… and Clint.”

Clint shook hands with you, while Natasha muttered through gritted teeth how pleased she was to meet you. Evidently her new relationship with Clint didn’t mean that Bucky should be allowed in the company of another female as far as she was concerned.

After a few awkward seconds where you smiled serenely while Natasha glared at you, Clint gently pulled her away, saying that he hoped to see the two of you around. Bucky mumbled something incoherent in response, and stared wistfully at the retreating back of his ex-wife and her new partner.

You nudged him with your elbow. “Hey, you okay?”

He shook his head and plastered a smile on his face. “Sure, doll. I’m fine.”

You doubted the truth of that statement, but chose not to contradict him. You wanted to hug him, but knowing Bucky as you did, he was more likely to brush you off.

“Natasha didn’t look well,” he blurted. “She looks like she’s put on a little weight. Did she seem puffy to you? I think she’s retaining water.”

“I never met Natasha before, so I can’t really say. Although it did look like she’d just sucked a lemon.”

“Yeah, I don’t think life really agrees with her.” Bucky sounded delighted that his ex-wife didn’t seem to be as happy as he’d imagined.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Bucky?” you asked again.

With a small smile, he nodded. “I’m fine. Really.”

Taking your hand, he led you out of the department store.

**************************************

It was abundantly clear that Bucky was not fine.

After running into his ex-wife, he had become sullen and withdrawn, barely speaking except in monosyllables if you asked him a question. He kept sighing melodramatically, and it took all of your self-control not to smack him in the head with the potted plant you were carrying.

“Bucky, are you sure you’re okay?” you asked for what felt like the millionth time.

“I’m great, doll. Look, it had to happen sometime, right? In a city of eight and a half million people, I was bound to run into her at some stage. So it’s happened, and I’m fine, and now I can get on with my life.”

He almost sounded as if he believed it.

**************************************

You stood in the loungeroom of Peggy’s apartment, staring at the hideous object that Steve had the temerity to call a coffee table. It was a circular metal monstrosity, painted in concentric red and white circles with a huge white star in the centre. It reminded you of a shield, and it was absolutely preposterous. It certainly didn’t fit in with the stylish décor that Peggy had chosen for her apartment when she was still single.

As Peggy’s apartment was larger than Steve’s, and closer to where she worked, both agreed that he would give up his one-bedroom bachelor pad in Brooklyn and move in with her. As a freelance writer, he was able to work from home more often than not, and it really didn’t matter to him where home was, as long as it was with Peggy.

Peggy’s current expression indicated that she was regretting this decision.

“I like it! I think it adds character. It says home to me,” Steve said, trying to persuade his beloved that his coffee table should be allowed to stay.

“Fine,” Peggy replied in a reasonable tone of voice, which Steve knew better than to trust. “We’ll let Bucky and Y/N decide.”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t listen to Bucky, if I were you. He says he’s decorated his apartment in the minimalist style, when really it’s just because he’s too lazy to buy furniture. He owns a futon and a Turkish rug, and that’s all. Don’t trust him with decorating tips.”

“I think it looks okay,” Bucky said, before turning to stare despondently out the window once more.

“Really, Bucky? This thing is so hideous that I don’t even have words to describe just how terrible it is. And I write for a living! Words are my life!” you retorted.

Peggy smiled sweetly. “There, you see? It’s revolting and it has got to go.”

Steve started whining, and Bucky turned away from the window. “You know, Natasha and I started out like this. Picking out kitchen tiles and furniture and carpet, and you know what happens? Six years later you find yourself singing _‘It Had To Be You’_ in front of Clint!”

The three of you stared at him. You went up to him and asked softly, “Do we really have to talk about this now?”

“Yes, doll, I think now is the perfect time to talk about this so that I can impart the wisdom of my experience to our friends before they make a monumental mistake.” He turned to Steve and Peggy, who were staring at him with wide eyes and open mouths. “Right now everything is great!. Everyone is happy, everyone is in love, it’s all sweet. And that’s wonderful. But you gotta know that sooner or later you’re gonna be screaming at each other about who is goin’ to get the antique gravy boat, or the mahogany dining table, or the dog. Those things will cost you thousands of dollars in phone calls to the legal firm of ‘That’s Mine and This Is Yours’.”

“Bucky…” you tried placatingly, but he was too agitated to listen.

“Steve, Peggy, do me a favour right now. Write your names in your books before they get mixed up and you can’t remember who owned what. Because some day, believe it or not, you’ll argue for six months over who’s going to get this coffee table!” He pointed angrily at Steve’s coffee table. “This stupid, patriotic, comic book coffee table!”

Steve looked hurt. “I thought you liked my coffee table, Buck.”

Bucky glared. “I was bein’ polite!”

He stormed out of the apartment before any of you could respond.

You shrugged apologetically to your friends. “He just bumped into Natasha with her new partner.”

They nodded with understanding, and you left to follow Bucky. Hopefully you could catch him before he did anything stupid.

You found him sulking on the front steps of the apartment building, and he sighed as you sat down next to him.

“I know, doll. I shouldn’t have done that.”  
  
“Bucky, you need to find a way to stop expressing every feeling that you have every moment that you have them.”

“Really?” he asked sarcastically.

“Yes,” you replied with some exasperation. “There are times and places for things.”

He stood up abruptly. “Well, the next time you’re giving a lecture on appropriate social behaviour, let me know so I can sign the fuck up.”

You stood up as well and put your hands on your hips. “Listen, you don’t have to take your anger out on me!”

“Oh, I think I’m entitled to throw a little anger your way,” he snarled. “Especially when I’m being told how to live my life by Little Miss Serenity!”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” you asked with some asperity.  
  
“I mean that nothing bothers you! Nothing! You never get upset about anything!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” you huffed, before turning and walking away.

He chased after you. “I’m not being ridiculous. You never get upset about breaking up with Tony, I never see you falling to pieces over your relationship failing. How the fuck is that possible? Don’t you experience _any_ feelings of loss at all?”

“I don’t have to take this shit from you!”

You started walking back to the apartment, and he ran after you again. “If you’re so over Tony, then why aren’t you seeing anyone?”  
  
“I see people!” you protested.

 _“You see people,”_ Bucky scoffed. “Have you slept with any of them? Have you slept with a single person since you broke up with Tony?”

You glared at him. “What the hell does that have to do with anything? _That_ will prove that I’m over Tony, by fucking somebody? Bucky, you’re going to have to move to another state because you’ve slept with every available woman in New York and I don’t see that turning Natasha into a faint memory for you!”

He looked as if you had slapped him, and it gave you a spiteful twinge of pleasure as you continued your tirade. “Besides, I will make love to somebody when it is _making love_ , and not the way _you_ do it which is like you’re out for revenge or something!”

“Are you finished?” he asked softly.

You paused briefly to consider this. “Yes.”

“Can I say something?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you said somewhat huffily, “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulled you close, wrapping you in his strong arms as he sobbed into your hair. “I’m so sorry, doll.”

You returned his embrace, rubbing his back and whispering your own apology.

Eventually, it appeared that Bucky was all cried out. He pulled away and gave you a watery smile, and you smiled back. Things were going to be okay.

Taking your hand, he led you back up the stairs to Peggy’s apartment building just as Steve came down, coffee table held in front of him. He glared at the two of you as you both tried to smother your grins.

“Not one word.”

**************************************

Peggy and Steve were having a gathering at their apartment, and after dinner and drinks had decided that it was time to play Charades. They had divided their guests into two teams. You were sketching, to the best of your limited ability, and your team was frantically calling out all sorts of incorrect answers. Unfortunately Bucky, Steve, Maria and her husband Bruce seemed completely mystified by your artistic endeavour.

“Monkey! It’s a monkey! Monkey see, monkey do! It’s an ape! Going ape!” Steve kept yelling out primate-based answers, and you glared at him. Clearly, he couldn’t understand the concept you were trying to convey with your blob-shaped offering.

“Oooh, it’s a baby!” suggested Maria, and preened when you gave her an encouraging nod.

“Planet of the Apes!” Steve called out.

Bucky gave him a look. “She just said it was a baby, why would you say Planet of the Apes? How about Planet of the Dopes?”

Steve pouted. “It doesn’t look like a baby.”

You rolled your eyes. Just because Steve was basically a modern-day Michelangelo, it didn’t mean that everybody else had to be perfect. It was Charades, after all, not an exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

You drew a pair of lips next to your ‘baby’ and the suggestions flew thick and fast.

“Mick Jagger as a baby!”

“Baby love!”  
  
“Baby ape!” No prizes for guessing who called that one out.

“Baby boom!”

Bucky said, “Rosemary’s baby!” At the look you gave him, he shrugged. “What? It looks kind of demonic.”

You desperately pointed between the baby and the mouth, hoping that someone would telepathically understand what you meant. The buzzer sounded and you sagged with defeat.

“So what was it, doll?” Bucky asked.

You sighed. “Baby talk.”

Steve’s handsome face was marred with a puzzled frown. “Baby talk? How the heck is that baby talk?”

Peggy giggled, before announcing the final score for the evening. “Our team ended up with one hundred and ten. Your team was sixty.”

She high-fived Sam Wilson, Stephen Strange, Thor Odinson and Jane Foster, who made up her team.

You sighed despondently. “I suck at drawing,” you wailed as Stephen came up to you with a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Not true,” he said consolingly. “That’s a baby, and that is clearly talking,” he said, pointing first to the blob-shaped ‘baby’ and then the mouth adorning your page. “You’re actually quite talented. Your team are just cretins.”

You giggled, knowing that he was just trying to make you feel better. You knew without a doubt that your drawing was the worst of everyone present, and yet Stephen still flattered you. You smiled up at him, and he lowered his mouth to yours in a tender kiss.

Bucky turned to ask you if you wanted a drink, and frowned when he noted you being embraced by Peggy’s neurosurgeon friend. For some reason, he hadn’t been able to warm to the doctor. He was a bit _too_ smooth, a little too sure of himself, and Bucky was positive that no good could come of your relationship with him. But he had no proof on which to base his mistrust, only a gut feeling.

Peggy interrupted apologetically to ask if you would help her serve the tea and coffee to everyone, and you reluctantly pulled away from your paramour as you followed your friend into the kitchen.

You looked back towards Stephen, but stopped as you noticed Bucky locking lips with Wanda Maximoff. She was much younger than all of you. Barely in her twenties, by the look of her, and yet Bucky was clearly interested. Without knowing why, you found yourself thoroughly disapproving of his involvement with the younger woman. You couldn’t say exactly _why_ you didn’t like the young woman. She seemed lovely enough, she was friendly and charming, and very pretty. And she was clearly very fond of Bucky, which should only have endeared her to you, rather than making you want to smack her in the face with a frying pan.

**************************************

You entered the kitchen just as Peggy was reaching for the coffee mugs. “Wanda seems a little young for Bucky, don’t you think?”

Peggy pursed her lips. “Well, yes, she’s young, but look at what she’s done.”

“Why? What has she done?” Hopefully something absolutely horrific so Bucky would open up his eyes and realise that she was totally wrong for him.

“She makes _thirty-five hundred_ chocolate mousse pies a week,” Peggy said, her voice full of awe. Peggy couldn’t boil water without burning it, so she considered that anybody who could do more than make ramen noodles was obviously using witchcraft in the kitchen.

“She makes desserts?”

“Yes! She owns the Scarlet Witch Bakery downtown.”

You nearly dropped the elaborately decorated cake you’d just removed from its white cardboard box. “Wait. She’s Wanda the Kitchen Witch?”

Damn it, now Bucky would never get rid of Wanda. He had the biggest sweet tooth of anybody you’d ever known, and Scarlet Witch Bakery made the best cinnamon scrolls in New York. They were Bucky’s favourite.

“Stephen is lovely,” Peggy said, smoothly changing the subject. “It’s good to see you happy again.”

You smiled softly. “I know. It’s nice dating a man who actually behaves like a grown up.”

You helped Peggy serve coffee and cake, and as you sat next to Stephen you tried not to think about Bucky and Wanda for the rest of the evening.

**************************************

Bucky sidled up to Steve, who was chatting with Jane and Thor, and asked him to show him the cover of the new book he’d written. As they entered Steve’s study, Bucky said, “Does Strange seem a little stuck up to you?”

Steve shrugged. “I know some people don’t like him, but he’s actually a really good guy. You should talk to him, get to know him better.”

“I can’t talk to him. He’s insufferable.”

“He took us all to a Yankees game last week. It was great.” Steve smiled happily at the memory.

“Since when do you like the Yankees?” Bucky asked, betrayal written all over his face.

“Since I get offered last minute tickets to sit in a corporate box with non-stop catering and free drink refills.” Noting Bucky’s despondent expression, Steve decided to change tack. “Wanda is great, I knew you two would get along.”

“Yeah. Although when I was driving her here, she put her iPhone in the cassette deck of my car’s stereo, because she thought it was a phone docking station, and she couldn’t understand why it wouldn’t charge.”

Steve winced. “Ouch. Dude, that means we’re officially old.”

“No, it just means that my car is old.”

The two of them headed back into the living room to join the rest of you for coffee and cake. Bucky attempted to ignore the fact that you were practically in Strange’s lap for the remainder of the night.

**************************************

Neither of you was terribly upset when you found out that the other had broken up with your new romances shortly afterward.


	5. A Shoulder To Cry On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky consoles you when you receive some upsetting news, but it may change your friendship forever…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in this chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you...

Bucky had just started his new book – after reading the last page first, just in case he died before he got to the ending – when his phone rang. Checking the caller ID, he answered with a smile. “Hey, doll.”

“Are you alone?” Your voice was muffled, as if you were talking underwater.

He sat bolt upright. “Yeah, doll. What do you need?”

“Could you come over?”

“What’s the matter?”

“He’s getting married!” you wailed.

“Who?”

“Tony!”

Bucky jumped out of bed, pulling on his jeans. “I’ll be right there.”

**************************************

Bucky knocked twice when he got to your apartment, but you didn’t answer, and so he let himself in with the key you’d given him ‘for emergencies’. He was unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

You were sitting in the middle of your bed, in your dressing gown, surrounded by what looked like the entire Kleenex factory’s worth of scrunched up tissues, a half-eaten box of chocolates in your lap, while you sobbed relentlessly. Your face was streaked with mascara, and you looked more miserable than he had ever seen you.

He hadn’t seen you cry this much since the last _Toy Story_ movie.

“Hi,” you mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate.

“Are you alright?” Bucky knew it was a stupid question, but he needed to hear you tell him that things were not okay. You were always so perky and optimistic, it was almost a relief for him to realise that you could feel emotions other than unrelenting happiness.

“I’m sorry I called you so late,” you cried, blowing noisily into a tissue.

“That’s okay, doll. You know you can call me any time.” Bucky sat down on the bed next to you. “So what happened?”

“Tony just called me up out of the blue, wanting to see how I was, he’s fine, I’m fine. His secretary is on vacation, his work is all backed up, he has a big case coming up that he’s not prepared for. Blah blah blah, small talk, chit chat, yadda yadda yadda. So we’re talking, and I’m thinking that I’m definitely over him, I am actually over him, you know? I can’t believe I was ever interested in any of that crap. And then he said, ‘I have some news’.”

You stopped talking as the sobs took over once more, and Bucky wrapped his arms around you as he tried to think of a way to calm you down.

“She works in his office. Her name’s Pepper Potts, and she’s his paralegal.” You blew your nose again before angrily throwing the used tissue on the floor. “He’s only known her for six weeks! She’s supposed to be his transitional person! She’s not supposed to be The One!”

You looked at Bucky with the most heartbroken expression he had ever seen. “All this time he’s been saying that he didn’t want to get married, when the truth is… he didn’t… he… he didn’t want to marry _me!"_

You threw your arms around Bucky as a fresh storm of tears burst from you, and he held you as you sobbed violently. He didn’t have words to make you feel better. He had no idea how to take away your pain, and it hurt him that this was one problem that he couldn’t fix for you. You were his favourite person in the world; you didn’t deserve to be feeling this way.

“Tony never really loved me,” you said softly, once your sobs had subsided.

Bucky looked at you seriously. “Y/N, let me ask you something. If you could take him back, right here and now, would you?”

“No!” you exclaimed, shaking your head violently. Your face crumpled as you started crying again. “But why didn’t he want to marry _me?_ What’s the matter with me?”

You flopped onto your pillows in a miserable heap, and Bucky lay down next to you. “Nothing’s wrong with you, doll,” Bucky assured you, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m difficult,” you wailed.

“Challenging,” he countered.

“My life is too structured and I’m completely closed off,” you moaned.

He shrugged. “But in a good way.”

“No, I drove him away,” you said, refusing to be comforted. “And I’m going to be _forty!”_

“When?” Bucky cried with alarm, wondering if he’d perhaps missed this significant milestone. He was positive you were the same age as him, but still, it wasn’t really polite to ask a girl her age.

“Some day!” you cried dramatically.

He tried to suppress his grin. “In eight years, doll.”

“But it’s _there!”_ you snapped. “It’s just sitting there like this big dead end. And don’t you dare tell me that it’s the same for men, because it’s not! Charlie Chaplin had babies when he was seventy-three!”

“Yeah, but he was too old to pick ‘em up,” Bucky joked. You gave a watery chuckle before bursting into tears yet again – seriously, how had you not yet fainted from dehydration? – and he gathered you close to him once more, holding you close to his chest as he murmured softly that everything was going to be okay.

Once your tears had subsided, he gave you a quick, chaste kiss on the lips and offered to make you a cup of tea. As he moved to get up, you pulled him back. “Bucky, could you just hold me a bit longer?”

“Of course, doll,” he said without hesitation, wrapping you in another hug and pressing a kiss to your hair.

Eventually, you pulled away from his embrace and gave him a shaky smile. “I think I’m okay now, Bucky.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled back, before pressing another kiss to your lips.

It took only a fraction of a second for you to deepen the kiss, and before Bucky knew what was happening, he was kissing you as if you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. It was so different to every other woman he’d ever kissed. This was _you_ , his best friend, the one person in the world who knew him better than anybody else. It felt as if he’d never really kissed anyone before this moment.

He twined his fingers in your hair, and you moved to straddle him. Having you in his lap shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. He moved his lips from your mouth to your neck, and felt a thrum of satisfaction when you let out a breathy moan. You arched your back slightly, and your robe fell from your shoulders. Bucky noted with some delight that underneath your robe, you were naked.

He kissed down the column of your throat to your chest as he untied your robe, slowly moving towards your breast, but not quite reaching where you wanted him. He caressed one breast with his hand, feeling the nipple pebble beneath his fingertips, as he finally took the other in his mouth. The soft sigh you gave nearly brought him undone.

As he continued to suckle your breast he removed his hand from your other breast to trail his fingertips down your stomach. You shivered slightly, and he tried not to smirk at your reaction. He caressed your mound through your panties, before he felt you roll your hips in an attempt to increase the friction. That was his cue to move your underwear to the side slightly so that he could stroke your warm folds gently, noting how quickly you became wet and wanting. He thrust a finger in and out a few times, before his thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves that was his favourite part of a woman. A thrill of delight went through him when heard you keening softly.

You kissed him again, even as you started to remove his sweater. Once the top half of him was naked, you caressed his chest with your small hands, making him squirm when you hit a ticklish patch of skin. You giggled, and that brought a devilish glint to his eyes. With a soft growl, Bucky flipped you onto your back, and kissed you more passionately, his tongue demanding entrance which you willingly gave. The entire time, his fingers never left your core, winding you up until you were practically bursting at the seams.

Just as you thought you were going to explode, he removed his fingers, grinning when you let out a whine of protest.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised.

He kissed down your neck and chest, his lips pressing a trail of hot kisses down your torso, until he reached the top of your underpants. He pressed a quick kiss to either side of your hips, then to both thighs. Quick as a flash, he pulled down your panties and gazed longingly at your pussy. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, and looked up to check that you were okay with this development. His blue-grey eyes locked onto yours, and it was a moment before you remembered to nod your head. You bit your lip, and it was all Bucky could do not to ravage you then and there.

He threw you a cheeky wink before lowering his head and licking a long, slow stripe along your lips. At your breathy moan, he nearly came undone again, but managed to regain control of himself. He continued his assault on your pussy, alternating between long, slow licks, flattening his tongue more firmly to apply more pressure to your core, and flicking his talented tongue against your clit. He paid particular attention to the way you practically ground your hips against his face when he sucked on your clit, loving the sounds you made when he hit the right spot. This was his favourite part of being with a woman, without a doubt. He’d always enjoyed going down on them, and by far you tasted better than anyone he’d ever been with. Bucky was almost positive he could spend the rest of his life with his head between your thighs, and never get tired of it.

You started to mumble incoherently, your fingers practically pulling his hair from his scalp as you felt your orgasm nearing. Bucky kept up his assault on your clit, and nearly died from ecstasy when you came with a scream, your juices drenching his face and tongue.

As you came down from your high, he finished undressing hastily before he whipped out a condom and rolled it on. He climbed back up towards you and kissed you yet again. You seemed to enjoy tasting yourself on his lips, as you pulled his head towards yours to deepen the kiss.

At the same time, he lined up the tip of his cock with your entrance, and as he thrust his tongue into your mouth, he thrust into you at the same time. He nearly passed out at how good you felt around his cock.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stared into a woman’s eyes as he made love to them. This wasn’t sex, it wasn’t fucking. This was _making love._ For the first time, he knew that he was actually making love. His strokes were long and languid, his hips moving rhythmically as he bottomed out over and over again. Very few women were able to accommodate his full length, yet you seemed to fit him perfectly. He groaned with pleasure when you wrapped your legs around his waist and drew him in all the way to the hilt.

You had never felt so full before. It felt like Bucky was stretching you to bursting, and you didn’t care a single bit. Every thrust of his hips drove out every thought of Tony, and Stephen Strange, and every other man you had ever dated. None of them had ever made you feel the way that Bucky was making you feel when they had made love to you. It was as if you had never known just how good sex could really be until this moment. You’d always enjoyed sex before, but this, _this_ was more than you had ever imagined. It was beautiful and loving and tender, and for the first time in your life you felt incredibly sexy. Bucky made you feel like you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

Eventually, Bucky started to thrust faster, and your hips rose up to meet his. You clawed at his back and grabbed his ass, trying to pull him even further inside of you. You chanted his name like a prayer, as you felt your second orgasm approaching. As you cried out, he swallowed your scream in a passionate kiss as he continued to pump his hips. He felt your walls fluttering around him, and with one last, final thrust, he came with a cry.

He collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily, and you had never been happier to be pinned beneath someone.

**************************************

Bucky lay staring at the ceiling, as you snuggled sleepily against him. _What had he done? What the FUCK had he just done?_

You were his friend.

His _best_ friend.

You weren’t supposed to fuck your friends.

He mentally shook his head. No, he hadn’t fucked you. What the two of you did was not fucking. He had _made love_. To _you._ The one person in the world that he was never supposed to sleep with.

He had never meant for this to happen. He had just come over to make sure you were doing okay. To reassure you that even though Tony didn’t love you, he still did. _All_ of your friends did.

The kiss was only meant to be a quick peck, just to make you feel better. You weren’t supposed to kiss him back. And he damn well wasn’t supposed to enjoy it as much as he had.

He wasn’t supposed to see you naked, and feel breathless at just how beautiful you were, or to long to hear you make those sounds and see you writhing beneath him as he ate you out, or to have you scream his name as you had the mother of all orgasms.

He wasn’t supposed to want you as much as he did.

He looked down at you, smiling in your sleep as you cuddled under the crook of his arm, and he trailed a finger down your cheek. He wanted to kiss you again.

_Shit._

Bucky had fucked up big time, and he had no clue as to how to rectify this mistake.

You were his best friend, and there was only one way that this could end.

In disaster.

**************************************

You woke in the morning to find Bucky hastily getting changed. You frowned sleepily. “Where are you going?”

He looked slightly guilty. “I gotta go. I gotta get home and change my clothes, then I gotta go to work. And so do you, doll.”

“Oh.”

Hastily, he continued, “But tonight I’d like to take you out to dinner. I mean, if you’re free. Are you free?”

Sitting up with your blanket wrapped around you, you nodded slightly. “Yeah, I guess.”  
  
“Okay, I’ll call you later.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and left without saying goodbye, as you stared after him, wondering what the hell had happened.

**************************************

Peggy awoke with a start as her phone rang. She sat up, wondering who would be calling her before sunrise.

“Hello?”

Your voice was apologetic. “Peggy, I’m sorry to call so early.”

“Are you alright?” she asked, suddenly very awake.  
  
“I just did something terrible.”

“What did you do?”

Steve’s phone rang just then, and he grumbled to himself about people being rude and calling before the sun came up. “What?” he asked grumpily.

“I need to talk,” Bucky said.

“Why?”

Bucky sighed. “I went over to Y/N’s last night.”

“Y/N, what happened?” Peggy asked again.

“Bucky came over last night. I told him that Tony was getting married…” you explained.

“… then one thing led to another…” Bucky muttered.

“… and then we started kissing…” you cried.

“… anyway, long story short…” Bucky continued.

“We had sex,” you both said at the same time.

Steve and Peggy turned to each other, and simultaneously said, “Oh my God! They finally had sex!”

“Y/N, that’s great!” Peggy gushed.

“We’ve been hoping this would happen,” Steve said. “You should have done it earlier, you jerk.”

“You should have done it in the first place,” Peggy continued. “You guys belong together.”

“We’ve been saying for months how you two should get together,” Steve added. “Two birds, one stone, you know?”

“How was it?” they both asked together.

“The during part was good,” Bucky admitted. “But then afterward I felt like I was suffocating. I had to get out of there.”  
  
“Shit, Buck, I’m sorry,” Steve sympathised. “You gave it a shot, but it didn’t work out. It’s too bad, I really like Y/N. I always thought she was perfect for you.”

“Well, I thought it was good, but I guess it wasn’t,” you told Peggy. “He just disappeared afterward, as if I was one of his one-night stands.”

“Ugh, that is the worst!” Peggy was indignant.

“I just feel so embarrassed,” you wailed.

“I don’t blame you,” Peggy tutted. “But I guess you should never sleep with someone when you’ve just found out that your ex is getting married.”

“Who is that talking?” Bucky asked.

“Is that Steve on the phone?” you queried.

“It’s the TV,” Steve and Peggy said at the same time. “Do you want to come over for breakfast?”

“Nah, I’m not up to it,” Bucky declined.

You sniffed. “No, thanks. I feel awful.”

“Call me later, Buck.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Y/N, I’ll call you later, okay?” Peggy promised.

“Okay. Thanks, Peg. Bye.”

Peggy and Steve hung up their phones and sighed simultaneously. They had hoped that you and Bucky would finally realise how perfect you were together, but clearly, the two of you didn’t see it that way.

Snuggling close, both went back to sleep, glad that they had found each other and no longer had to search fruitlessly for the one person they were meant to be with.

Both just hoped that you and Bucky would come to your senses before it was too late.

**************************************

You were putting your makeup on as you got ready for dinner with Bucky.

“I’ll just say we made a mistake.” You stared at your reflection, trying to believe what you were telling yourself. “I just hope I get to say it first.”

**************************************

Bucky stood in the shower, letting the hot water wash over him. He was talking to himself, attempting to convince himself that what he was saying was the truth.

“Y/N, doll, it was a mistake.”  
  
Turning off the water, he ran a hand over his face. “I just hope she says it before I do.”

**************************************

You sat opposite Bucky at the restaurant, both of you looking everywhere but at each other. The two of you hadn’t been this awkward since your road trip from college all those years ago.

“It was a mistake,” you blurted out when the silence became agonising.

Bucky leaned forward. “God, doll, I am so relieved that you think so, too.”

Your face fell. He wasn’t supposed to agree with you.

“I’m not sayin’ last night wasn’t great, because it was,” Bucky went on, failing to notice your crestfallen expression.

“Yes, it was,” you agreed softly. “But we just never should have done it.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Bucky smiled at you.

You leaned back in your chair, your demeanour one of forced cheerfulness. “I am _so_ relieved that you feel the same way that I do!”

The waiter brought out your salads, and the two of you sat quietly. You chewed your leaves rather aggressively, taking out the discomfort you felt on the innocent greens, while Bucky seemed perfectly at ease now that he knew that you agreed the two of you had made a terrible mistake.

“It’s so nice when you can just sit with someone and not have to talk,” Bucky said after a few moments, when it became apparent that you were not going to say anything further.

He failed to notice that your smile didn’t reach your eyes.


	6. My Greatest Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head between you and Bucky at the wedding of Steve and Peggy, and it seems like your years of friendship may be over.

Bucky and Steve were jogging through Central Park.

“Most of the time when you go to bed with someone, she tells you all her stories, you tell her all your stories. But Y/N and I already knew all of each other’s stories, so after we slept together, it’s like we didn’t know what to do.”

“Sure, Buck.” Steve thought Bucky was being incredibly dense, but would never dream of saying so aloud.

“I dunno. Maybe you just get to a certain point in a relationship where it’s too late to have sex. You know? Like, we’ve been friends for years. It probably should never have got to that point.”

“You’re right, Buck.”

The two of them continued jogging in silence.

**************************************

You stood looking admiringly at Peggy as she was having the final fitting for her wedding gown.

“Is Bucky bringing anyone to the wedding?” you asked nonchalantly, as if you could care less whether he arrived with some bimbo on his arm.

Peggy fussed with her veil. “I don’t think so.”

“Is he seeing anyone?” You munched angrily on a handful of peanut M&Ms.  
  
“Well, he _was_ seeing some anthropologist named Carol, but I think that’s over.”  
  
You continued munching. “What does she look like?”

Peggy shrugged. “Oh, you know. Thin, blonde, big tits. Your usual nightmare.” She turned to you almost shyly once the hem of her gown had been pinned. “So, what do you think?”

“Oh, Peggy…”

“Be honest.”  
  
The 1940s style wedding gown had a long train and acres of lace. It looked like the type of gown that a Hollywood icon such as Grace Kelly or Audrey Hepburn might have worn. She looked stunning – not that you expected anything less of her – and you pushed down the enormous wave of jealousy that hit you. You were happy for her, of course you were, but there was also a tiny bit of envy that it was _her_ who got to be so happy, instead of you.

Tears filled your eyes. “Peggy, I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You embraced your friend, trying not to feel a teensy bit smug when she was stabbed in the ass by a pin.

**************************************

The strains of Pachelbel’s ‘Canon’ sounded through the church as you made your way down the aisle. You smiled encouragingly at Steve as you approached, but avoided looking at Bucky. You pretended that he didn’t exist, which was exceedingly difficult, given how extraordinarily handsome he looked in his suit.

Really, it should be illegal for anybody to be that good-looking.

You turned to watch as Peggy practically floated down the aisle, smiling serenely at everyone gathered to witness her union to Steve. As she reached the front of the church, she handed her bouquet to you and joined hands with Steve, both of them oblivious to anything but each other.

The priest commenced in a strong, clear voice. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Steve and Peggy, and to consecrate their vows of matrimony. The vows they will take join their lives; the wine they will share binds all their hopes together; and by the rings they will wear, they will be known to all as husband and wife."

As the priest droned on and on, you kept your gaze firmly fixed upon your two loved-up friends. You felt Bucky’s eyes on you, but you refused to make eye contact with him. He continued to act as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you, and you had felt humiliated and awkward ever since.

Well, if he wanted to pretend that everything was fine, then so could you.

**************************************

Bucky knew he should have been paying attention to the words of the ceremony, but all he could focus on was you. You looked more beautiful than he had ever seen you, in the emerald green gown that you wore in your role as maid of honour. If anything, he thought you were more lovely than the bride.

He had given you a smile when he saw you leading Peggy down the aisle, to let you know that you scrubbed up okay, but you had steadfastly ignored him. It was apparent that you were upset, and he had some idea of why, but he had no clue as to how to fix things between you.

He just hoped that he could find a way to make things up with you. It would ruin the celebrations if you were in a bad mood.

Steve nudged him, and Bucky shook himself, gave a sheepish grin, and handed over the rings.

The rest of the ceremony passed by in a blur.

**************************************

“I’ve never seen Peggy so happy,” you told Maria with some satisfaction. “She’s a totally different person since she met Steve.”

“I agree.” Maria looked pointedly at you. “So now what are we going to do about you?”

“Me?”

Before Maria could explain what she meant, she was whisked away to dance by her husband, Bruce. You remained standing awkwardly to the side, watching as they joined the newlyweds on the dance floor.

As you were about to go and get a drink, Bucky came up to you with a big smile. “Hey, doll.”

“Hello.” You didn’t look at him, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.

“It was a nice ceremony,” Bucky offered.

“Beautiful.”

“You wanna dance, doll?”

“No.”  
  
Bucky frowned, hoping that you weren’t going to spend the rest of the reception giving one word answers to his conversational efforts. “Boy, the holidays are rough, aren’t they? I spend all my time just trying to survive from the day before Thanksgiving all the way until the day after New Years’.”  
  
“A lot of suicides,” you replied, in a tone of voice which indicated that you might not be terribly upset if he happened to be one of those statistics in the near future.

A waiter came up and offered you a pig in a blanket, which you accepted with a gracious smile.

“So, how have you been, doll?”

“Fine.” The smile was no longer adorning your face. Clearly, you were upset with him because of what had happened between you recently, but he had no idea why.

Racking his brain for a way to get you to open up to him, he asked, “Are you seeing anyone?”

The look you gave him could have frozen the Sahara desert. “Bucky, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Why not?”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it!” You turned on your heel and walked away.

Bucky pursued you, not willing to give up. “Why not? Why can’t we move past this? Are we gonna carry this around forever?”

You whirled around to glare at him. “ _Forever?_ It _just_ happened.”

“ _Just_ happened? Doll, it happened three weeks ago.” As you stared at him with your mouth agape, he kept talking. “You know how a year to a person is like seven years to a dog?”

“Yes?” You waited for him to continue.  
  
He shrugged, as if that explained everything.

“Is one of us supposed to be a _dog_ in this scenario?” you asked in a dangerous tone of voice.

“Yes,” he nodded, unaware of his impending doom.

“Who is the dog?” you demanded, even though you knew damn well to whom he was referring.

“You are.”

Bingo. “ _I_ am the dog? Is this your way of saying that I’m a bitch?”

You stormed off again, and once again Bucky trailed after you. When he caught up to you, you turned back to him with another glare. “I’m sorry, Bucky, but I don’t see it that way. If anyone is the dog in this scenario, it’s you! _You_ are the one who wants to act like what happened didn’t mean anything!”

He groaned with exasperation. “I’m not saying it didn’t mean anything! What I’m saying is why does it have to mean _everything?”_

“Because it _does!_ And _you_ should know that better than anybody, because the second it happened you walked out the door!”

“I didn’t walk out!” he protested.

“No, _sprinted_ is more like it!” you hissed, throwing your pig in a blanket at his head.

“We both agreed it was a mistake!” Bucky exclaimed.

“The worst mistake I ever made!” you threw back at him as you stalked off towards the kitchen.

Bucky grabbed your arm and forced you to look at him. “What do you want from me, doll?”

You yanked your arm from his grasp. “I don’t want _anything_ from you!”

“Fine! Fine, but let’s just get one thing straight. I did not come over that night to make love to you. That was not the reason I went there. But you looked up at me with those big puppy dog eyes full of tears, and you were doing the tremblin’ lower lip thing. ‘Don’t go home tonight, Bucky.’ ‘Hold me a little longer, Bucky’. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

You shook with barely suppressed fury, your eyes glittering with tears. “What are you saying, Bucky? That you took _pity_ on me? It was a _pity fuck?_ Is that what you are telling me right now?”

“No, I was…”

His explanation was cut off by a resounding slap.

_“Fuck you, Barnes!”_

**************************************

Steve stood nervously in front of the microphone, tapping on his glass to quiet the crowd. “Ahem. Could I have everyone’s attention, please? I’d like to propose a toast to Bucky and Y/N.”

The crowd turned just in time to watch you stride angrily back from the kitchen, Bucky only a few steps behind, his cheek still reddened and stinging from the slap you’d just given him.

“To Bucky and Y/N,” Steve continued. “If Peggy or I had found either one of them even remotely attractive, we would not be here today.”

The guests laughed, and Steve grinned at the two of you as he raised his glass. Applause broke out as you and Bucky stood side by side, not looking at each other.

Neither of you could wait for the reception to be over.


	7. It's Always Been You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tries to repair your friendship, but is it too little, too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, folks. The final chapter of this little fic. Thanks to everyone who has left comments and/or kudos, it's really lovely knowing that people enjoyed this story. Even if a few of you felt like punching Bucky after the last chapter :)
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely Christmas (or whatever holiday you may or may not celebrate at this time of year) - stay safe and have a wonderful New Year. See you all in 2020!

Bucky called your number, and once again, he got your voicemail. It was almost as if you didn’t want to speak to him ever again.

“Hey, doll, it’s me. So, it’s the holiday season and I just wanted to remind you that this supposed to be the season of charity and forgiveness. What is not as widely known is that it is also the season of grovelling. So, if you ever decide to call me back, I just want you to know that I would be more than happy to do the traditional Christmas grovelling. Gimme a call. Okay, bye, doll.”

**************************************

You were typing up your latest article, trying frantically to complete it in time to reach the deadline, when your landline rang. Not wanting to interrupt the flow of your typing, you opted to let it go straight to your answering machine.

Bucky’s voice sounded throughout your apartment.

“Hey, doll. If you’re there, please pick up the phone. I really want to talk to you.” After a few seconds, he spoke again. “The fact that you aren’t answering leads me to believe that you’re either, A) not at home; B) home but don’t want to talk to me; or C), home and you do want to talk to me rather desperately, but you can’t pick up because you’re trapped under something heavy. If the correct answer is either A or C, please call me back.”

You sighed. This was the tenth message he’d left in as many days. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Your finger hesitated for only a second before you erased the message and returned to your work.

**************************************

“It’s obvious that she doesn’t want to talk to me,” Bucky complained to Steve as they waited in line for their hotdogs. “What do I have to do, be hit over the head to get the hint? If she wants to call me, then she’ll call me. I’m through making an idiot out of myself.”

**************************************

Bucky’s voice sang out as your answering machine picked up.

_“If you’re feeling sad and lonely_  
_There’s a service I can render_  
_Tell the one who digs you only_  
_I can be so warm and tender_  
_Call me_  
_Maybe it’s late, but just call me_  
_Don’t be afraid to just phone moi_  
_Call me and I’ll be arooooooooound_

So, yeah, just… gimme a call, doll.”

Bucky nearly dropped the phone in astonishment when he heard your quiet voice at the other end. “Hey, Bucky.”

“Hi, doll! I, uh… I didn’t know you were home. What are you doing?”

“I was just on my way out.”

“Where are you going?”

He heard you sigh. “What do you want, Bucky?”

“Nothing. Nothing, doll. I just called to say I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” You waited for the apology, but when none was forthcoming you realised that he obviously thought that telling you he was calling to apologise actually counted as an apology. “Look, Bucky, I’ve got to go.”

“Wait a second!” His voice sounded almost desperate. “What are you doin’ for New Year’s? Are you goin’ to that big party that Peter Quill’s throwing? ‘Cause I don’t have a date, and if _you_ don’t have a date, we always said that if neither of us had a date we’d do New Years’ together, so maybe we could…”

You blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I can’t do this anymore, Bucky. I am not your consolation prize. Goodbye.”

As Bucky heard the call disconnect, he felt as if his heart would break.

**************************************

Bucky lay on his bed, watching the New Years’ countdown on his TV while stuffing his face full of Thin Mints.

“What’s so bad about this?” he asked himself. “I got the countdown that I can actually hear because there’s no inane chatter goin’ on around me. I got a box of Thin Mints, the greatest Girl Scout cookie of all time, all to myself. Who needs a party?”

He tried to enjoy his party for one.

**************************************

Emmett Ross was flinging you around the dance floor with reckless abandon, and you wished he would stop. He was the worst dancer you had ever been with – Bucky had obviously ruined dancing for you forever, amongst other things – and you couldn’t wait for this number to be over.

“I don’t know why I let you drag me along to this thing,” you whined at Peggy and Steve as you were flung in their direction.

The New Year couldn’t come soon enough.

**************************************

Bucky trudged through the chilly Manhattan streets. Nothing wrong with a bit of fresh air and exercise. It was good for the soul.

Besides, how often was he going to get the streets all to himself? Never, that’s when.

Who needs to be at a big overcrowded party in a stuffy ballroom pretending to have a good time?

Not him, that’s for sure.

**************************************

Emmett had given the punchline of a joke that only he found funny, and was laughing to himself while you grimaced in response.

Turning your head to Peggy, you spoke out of the corner of your mouth. “I’m going home.”

“You’ll never get a taxi,” she replied calmly.

Turning back to Emmett, you pretended to laugh hysterically.

**************************************

Bucky found himself standing underneath the Washington Square Arch, and suddenly found his thoughts turning to the first time he’d met you, all those years ago.

_“You realise, of course, that we can never be friends.”_

_“Why not?”_

He remembered the next time he saw you again, on that flight to Los Angeles. How irritated you initially were that he was sitting next to you. The ease at which you’d fallen back into teasing each other. The way you’d smiled when he’d told you he was getting married. How genuinely pleased you were for him.

And how you’d been there for him when Natasha had left him, helping him cope with the pain and the loss he’d felt after realising that his wife had never truly loved him.

_“What I’m saying is that men and women can’t be friends, because the sex part always gets in the way.”_

_“That’s not true!”_

The excursions to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Walks through Central Park. Shopping together. Decorating his apartment. Arguing over the phone about who was the better love interest in _‘Casablanca’_.

Bucky thought back over all of the times he had spent with you, and realised that he had always been happiest whenever the two of you were together, no matter what you were doing. However mundane, you always made his day brighter just by being there.

_“No man can be friends with a woman he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.”_

_“What if THEY don’t want to have sex with YOU?”_

He grinned when he remembered you faking an orgasm in the diner. You had been so believable, he felt sorry for any man that had ever disappointed you during sex. They would never have known that they had failed to satisfy you.

At the time, it had made him wonder if you would ever fake it with _him_ , in the unlikely event that the two of you ever slept together, and whether he would actually be able to tell the difference.

You hadn’t faked it with him.

_“It doesn’t matter, because the sex thing is already out there, so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.”_

God, he could still feel your lips on his. The way you had felt beneath him. The way you tasted. The way you smelled. The way you just fit together. Like two pieces of a puzzle. Like you were meant to be with him.

_“Well, I guess that we’re not going to be friends then.”_

_“I guess not.”_

It was true. You and Bucky were not friends. You were so much more than that.

You were soul mates.

_“That’s too bad. Because you were going to be the only person I knew in New York.”_

You were his person. _His_. His other half. The only one for him. You had always been the only one for him.

And he was yours. He was certain of that.

He glanced at his watch.

_Shit._

If he ran, he might just be able to make it in time.

Bucky ran as if his life depended on it. Because, for once, he felt that it did.

**************************************

You stared despondently at the happy couples surrounding you, desperately waiting for this year to be over so you could just go home.

Emmett had abandoned you in favour of talking animatedly with Stephen Strange, and you couldn’t stand seeing the lovestruck expressions that Peggy and Steve were giving each other.

God, being single on New Years’ Eve was a million times worse than Valentine’s Day.

You had to get out of here.

Marching up to Peggy and Steve, you announced that you were heading home.

“But it’s nearly midnight!” Peggy objected.

You shrugged. “The thought of not kissing somebody is just…”

Steve looked at you kindly. “ _I’ll_ kiss you.”

“That’s sweet, Steve, but really, I’d rather just go home.”

“Stay, please,” he pleaded. Peggy nodded her agreement, not wanting you to be alone at the start of the new year.

“Thanks, Steve, but I really need to go.”

“Wait two minutes!” Peggy insisted.

You pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

You made your way to the exit of the ballroom, stopping mid-step when you saw Bucky leaping up the stairs.

Before you could make your escape, he spotted you and raced over to you. Lifting your chin defiantly, you returned his gaze with a cool one of your own.

“Y/N, I’ve been doing a lot of thinkin’. And the thing is… I love you.” Bucky made this declaration with an absolutely straight face, almost as if he believed the words that came tumbling out of his mouth.

“What?” You stared at him as if he was speaking Wakandan.

“I love you.”

How could you not hear the way his heart was pounding? It was ready to burst out of his chest. You held his heart in your hands, why were you acting as if you didn’t know this?

“How do you expect me to respond to this?” you asked, as if you were talking about the weather.

“How about you love me too?” Bucky had never wanted to hear three words so desperately in his entire life.

You squared your shoulders and lifted your chin even higher. “How about ‘I’m leaving’?”

You brushed past him, trying to squeeze through the crush of people.

Bucky followed a few steps behind. “Doesn’t what I just said mean anything to you?”

You turned back to him with tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I know it’s New Years’ Eve, I know you’re feeling lonely, but you can’t just show up here and tell me that you love me and expect that to make everything alright. It might work like that in the movies, but it doesn’t work that way in real life.”

“Well, how does it work?” he demanded, grabbing your hand so that you couldn’t escape him.

You whirled back to face him, trying to remove your hand from his firm grip. “I don’t know, but not this way!”

“Well, then, how about this way?” he said. “How about, I love that you get cold when it’s the middle of summer. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love how you get that little crinkle in your forehead when you’re lookin’ at me like I’m absolutely nuts.”

He poked you in the forehead for emphasis before continuing. “I love that after I spend an entire day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person that I want to talk to before I go to sleep every night, and the first person that I want to talk to as soon as I wake up every mornin’.”

Your puzzled frown only deepened as he concluded. “And it’s _not_ because I’m lonely. And it’s _not_ because it’s New Years’ Eve. I came here tonight because when you realise that you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible!”

He was startled when you burst into tears and started punching him. “You see? This is so _typical_ of you, Bucky! You stand there and you look at me like that, and you say things like that to me, and you make it absolutely impossible for me to hate you!”

Punch.

“And I _hate_ you, Bucky!”

Punch.

“I really hate you, Bucky.”

He winced, waiting for another punch. Opening one eye, he peeked at you to find you standing there, tears spilling out of your beautiful eyes.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

But he knew without a doubt that what you were actually saying was “I love you.”

Just as everyone wished each other a happy new year, he grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you, pouring all of his love for you into his embrace.

And you kissed him back.

And he knew. He _knew_.

You were his, and he was yours. Now and forever.

**************************************

_Three months later…_

Bucky stood in front of all of the gathered crowd, his arm around you, as he spoke into the microphone.

“The first time Y/N and I met, we hated each other,” he said, to much laughter.

“No, you didn’t hate me. _I_ hated _you_ ,” you corrected, causing the laughter to increase. “The second time we met, you didn’t even remember me!”

Several of your friends booed in jest. Steve was the loudest of all.

“I did too remember you!” he protested, a grin on his face. “The third time we met, we became friends.”

“We were friends for a long time.” You smiled up at him, your heart almost bursting with happiness.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your nose. “And then we weren’t. And then we fell in love, and now we’re here. Married. I’m married to my best friend.”

There were numerous _“Awwwwwws”_ from those in attendance, in particular from Peggy, Maria and Thor.

“And it only took us twelve years and three months to get to this point,” you smiled.

“About time!” Steve called out, to raucous applause.

“So, I’d just like to propose a toast, to my beautiful wife. Y/N, it had to be you. From the moment I met you, I knew you were someone who was going to play an important role in my life. When we first met, I never expected your friendship to become the most important thing to me, but now I can’t remember what my life was like without you in it. You make every day brighter, and always bring a smile to my face, and I love everything about you. I love you, doll.”

He kissed you enthusiastically, to loud cheers, as everyone drank the toast.

There had never been a friendship quite like that between you and Bucky. Not everybody can be so lucky.

But it would be nice if everyone was.


End file.
